The Great Pretender
by NashNurse
Summary: Hawkeye never knew that one woman could make him so miserable. But of course, he must pretend as if nothing is wrong and she has to pretend like she doesn't want him back. Part 2 to A Matter of Pride.
1. Trouble Brewing

I know this is a short chapter, but I didn't want to keep you waiting long for the second installment. By the end of this chapter I think you will figure out what's going on in this story... I hope you like it. (well, you wont but please bear with me) Enjoy!

Major-Baby

* * *

The old Colonel had felt sick to his stomach ever since he received the phone call from Tokyo the day before. Now he seated himself at his desk, anxiously awaiting Margaret's arrival. He heard Radar get up from his desk, right outside the door and Potter stood to pour himself a drink.

Margaret burst through the double doors just as the old man sat down. "Good morning, Colonel." She greeted cheerfully.

The old man grunted a response and surveyed her gravely. How was your time in Tokyo?"

"Oh it was wonderful!" she gushed. "We had a marvelous time!"

Potter sighed and shook his head. "We? Major, correct me if I'm wrong, but I only sent one Major Houlihan to Tokyo."

Margaret laughed loudly and Potter cringed at the brass sound. "No, Colonel, I'm referring to the staff at the hospital base."

The old man smiled tightly, he had a bad feeling about where this was headed. It reminded him of the time he cornered a raccoon in his basement.

"I have wonderful news," she gushed. Potter held his breath, here it comes. "I'm engaged!"

Margaret hurried across the room to allow the CO to examine her ring, which Potter duly noted was much smaller than the one Pierce had given her only nine days before.

He looked down at his hand, gingerly rubbing the scars where the raccoon had slashed him. "Uh, Margaret, maybe you better take a moment to consider all the facts."

Margaret's smile faded quickly and she frowned. "What facts?" her tone was icy, as if she were daring him to debate her decision.

Colonel Potter rubbed a weary hand across his eyes. He had too good of and idea of the hell that was about to break loose across the camp.

"Major, have you forgotten you're already married?"

Margaret's frown quickly vanished and she laughed boisterously. "Oh Colonel, are you serious?" She placed her hands on her hips and shook her head playfully. "You can't possibly believe that we were seriously married! It was nothing but a joke."

Margaret shook her head again as she danced out of the room. "I'll brief you about the results of the trip later," she called over her shoulder as the doors swung shut behind her.

Potter sighed, and placed his head into his hands. No matter what Margaret had chosen to believe, he knew their chief surgeon certainly did not view his marriage as a joke.


	2. Wounded

Margaret hummed happily to herself as she walked inside the mess tent. Hawkeye noticed her and grinned as he moved behind her, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist.

"What are you doing?" she barked. "Get your hands off me!"

Hawkeye loosened his grip on his wife and looked at her curiously. "What's going on with you?" he asked.

"It's highly inappropriate for you to touch me like that," she responded crisply.

Hawkeye laughed and dipped her in a passionate kiss. "You mean like that?' he teased as he let her up.

Margaret stared at him angrily, her body shaking with furry. "Don't you ever do that again!" she screeched. Before Hawkeye realized it, Margaret had pulled her arm back and thrust it into his face. Besides it being a powerful punch, Hawkeye had been completely caught off guard and the force of the hit sent him careening backwards into one of the tables.

Hawkeye gingerly drew a hand up to his swelling face and watched in shock as his wife stomped out of the tent.

* * *

Potter sighed and walked over to his liquor cabinet, pulling out two of his best bottles of scotch. "Tell him to come in, Radar," the old man announced, retrieving two large glasses.

Potter heard Hawkeye stomp into the room and he turned to greet him. Hawkeye noticed the bottles of scotch and laughed drunkenly.

"Oh, Colonel, how th-thoughtful of you to try and soften the blow." He mumbled, almost incoherently.

"Margaret told you already?" the colonel asked, curiously noting the large bruise around the side of Hawkeye's mouth.

"Oh no," Hawkeye droned as he gulped down his first glass of scotch. "My lovely wife told me nothin'. I had to drag it out of nurse Kellye, who had ap-appare… who saw her new ring."

Potter cursed silently and shook his head with pity at his chief-surgeon. He was still at a loss as to why Hawkeye loved Margaret, but he knew he did. And it had to be killing him that she seemed to care less about their relationship.

"She hates me," Hawkeye's voice was quiet and soft, his face was white. Sherman walked over to him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Oh come on, son. She doesn't hate you; she's just a bit confused right now."

Hawkeye shook his head and laughed cynically. "Right as rain, Colonel," he slurred. "She's gotta be confused to want that measly ring over my nice big one."

Potter sighed, realizing the doctor was far too drunk to reason with. He walked behind his desk and sat down, watching the man across from him closely.

His head jerked up as Margaret crashed through the doors. "Colonel, I would like to request a transfer immediately." She said harshly, not noticing Hawkeye who had sunk down low into the chair.

"No Major." Potter replied just as harshly.

Hawkeye pulled himself up and grinned. "Well hiya there baby-cakes." He greeted sarcastically.

The strong odor of gin mixed with scotch assaulted her nose and she glared at him. "You're disgusting." She spat angrily.

"I know you are but what am I?" he chanted in a sing-song voice. Margaret rolled her eyes and turned sharply. "I talk with you later, Colonel. When you've exterminated this room," she called out over her shoulder.

Hawkeye sunk down onto the floor. "I know you are but what am I?" he muttered to himself over and over again.

Potter walked over to the young doctor and sat behind him silently. Soon Hawkeye's mutterings turned to drunken sobs.

"It'll be alright, son," Potter tried pathetically. "It'll be alright."


	3. Shattered Glass

"He has these muscles… a tattoo...when he flexes..."

As Hawkeye walked into the mess tent he rolled his eyes as he caught a few of Margaret's excited words. He looked at BJ and chuckled. "Good grief, she's at it again. Does she ever stop?"

BJ chuckled but he watched his friend closely. Hawkeye had been going along with Margaret's charade for almost a week; pretending as if nothing was wrong. But BJ knew better, he had seen how drunk and miserable his friend was the night he found out about Penobscott. He only wondered how long Hawkeye would be able to keep his act going.

"Good morning ladies," Hawkeye greeted cheerfully, sitting across form Margaret.

They all happily returned his good morning as BJ grumpily sat down beside Margaret. "It's a beautiful morning, isn't it?" Margaret asked him cheerfully. BJ only gave her a loud _humph_ as he stood up and walked outside. He was plenty ticked off with Margaret and he didn't care how his buddy decided to act; BJ certainly wasn't going to treat Margaret as if she hadn't done anything.

Hawkeye watched his friend go and sighed deeply. BJ just didn't understand how badly he needed everything to be normal right now.

"So Margaret, tell me, how did you meet him? Did he jump out of the cake at the party?" he grinned and Margaret glared at him.

"Oh buzz off, Captain."

Hawkeye jumped up, laughing and casually walked outside.

"Hey Beej wait up," he called after his friend but BJ kept walking, ignoring him completely. When Hawkeye reached the swamp he looked at his friend strangely.

"What's with you?" BJ didn't answer as he poured himself a drink. "Oh that's real mature," Hawkeye picked up a martini glass and filled it to the brim. "Come on, what's with you?"

"She hurt you," BJ said suddenly. "why can't you just admit it? She hurt you, just say it, it will make me feel much better."

Hawkeye rolled his eyes and sat down. "Are we back to this again? I told you I'm fine. I had a steamy affair with the final nurse on my list. I had fun, now it's over."

Hawkeye stood up and bowed dramatically. "Thank you gentleman and gentleman, yes I know I'm far too genius for my own good. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to see about getting us some new nurses."

Hawkeye dramatically threw the martini glass onto the floor as he walked out; proving to BJ that he certainly wasn't alright.

"Genius… ha, too stubborn for your own good, you mean."

* * *

"Damn it, Hawkeye. What do you keep procrastinating?" Margaret was fuming as she was waving their divorce papers around in the air.

Hawkeye smiled mischievously and shrugged. "I want to meet my competitor before I give you up." He said it jokingly but he had to admit to himself that there was some truth to what he said, although he'd never let Margaret know that.

"Give me up? What do you mean give me up? You never had me! Now sign the papers!" Margaret threw the papers into his face and crossed her arms.

"Hold on, Hotlips, I don't sign anything without my lawyer." He was stalling now. He had hopped that Penobscott was just a stupid crush but Margaret wasn't relenting.

"Are you just doing every possible thing you can do to annoy me?" she screeched. "sign the…"

"Sign the papers…yeah I know." Hawkeye grinned up at her. "but I don't have a pen."

Margaret glared at him and quickly crossed the tent, snatching a pen off Charles' small writing desk. "Here," she thrust the pen into his face. "Is that all you need, or perhaps you need some water and a goodnights sleep to prepare you for the tedious job of signing your name."

Hawkeye chuckled at her attempt at humor and he bowed his head slightly. "Not at all. Now where am I signing…?"

"Right here," Margaret practically jumped on top of him as she showed him where to sign. "Good, and here…" she lifted the two more pages and had him sign again. "And your initials here…"

Hawkeye looked up at her and shook his head. "Good grief, Margaret, stop drooling." She glared angrily at him as he signed his initials. She grabbed the pages from him and quickly stomped out of his tent.

Hawkeye sighed and leaned back in his chair as he poured himself a martini. He stared into the clear liquid for a moment before throwing the glass against the canvas wall listening to it shatter in satisfaction.

"Damn it, Margaret," he muttered quietly. "thanks to you I'm losing all my martini glasses."


	4. And A Bottle O' Rum

_I decided to write out the lyrics of the song that inspired the title and a bit of the theme. THIS IS NOT A SONG FIC! I just wanted you too understand where I'm going with this. I hope you liked the chapter! It will be all you get for the next week or two as I won't have acsess to a computer. Enjoy!_

_Major-Baby_

_

* * *

_

I am the great pretender.  
_Pretending that I'm doing well.  
__My need is such, I pretend too much.  
__I'm lonely but no one can tell. _

_Oh yes I'm the great pretender  
Adrift in a world of my own  
__I play the game but to my real shame  
You've left me to dream all alone_

_Too real is this feeling of make believe  
Too real when I feel what my heart  
can't conceal_

_Oh yes I'm the great pretender  
Just laughing and gay like a clown  
I seem to be what I'm not (you see)  
I'm wearing my heart like a crown  
Pretending that you're still around_

* * *

Hawkeye watched Margaret with a melancholy interest as she eagerly opened a letter from Donald. Her expression turned from happiness to anger in a short few seconds and then back to joy again. He sighed and sipped on his cup of coffee.

"Hey Margaret," he yelled across the tent. "What does lover boy say?"

Margaret shot him a furious glance and he laughed.

"Oh, that good huh?" BJ chuckled slightly at his friends comment. It had been almost two months since Hawkeye signed the divorce papers and BJ was actually starting to believe that Hawkeye was fine.

Hawkeye grinned happily as Nurse Baker walked by. He jumped up, following her closely as she walked to the chow line.

"Hey baby, hungry?" he whispered into her ear.

"Not for what you have in mind," she responded smiling.

"Well I'm hungry," he whispered again. Baker shot him a warning look, becoming slightly annoyed.

"No," she said firmly, seating herself beside Nurse Kellye.

A small pout played around Hawkeye's mouth. "Meanie," he threw over his shoulder as he walked back towards BJ.

Hawkeye sniffed his food suspiciously as he looked back towards Margaret who was playing with her small ring.

"That's disgusting," he said disheartened.

BJ smirked. "What, Margaret or the food?"

"Clever, Beej" .He pushed his tray away in disgust. "My dad's cooking is better than this," he shook his head sadly. "The last time I ate my dad's cooking I was sick for a week."

As BJ laughed Hawkeye forced a grin on his face. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Margaret fold her letter, get up from her table and head outside, wrapping her arms about her in the chilly spring air.

_"God she's beautiful,"_ he found himself thinking. Hawkeye chuckled softly and shook his head to rid him of thoughts that shouldn't be there.

"Well, I am officially bored to tears, I think we need to find something to do," he raised his eyebrows and BJ caught on.

"So who are we …er… entertaining?"

"Well, Charles is always fun," Hawkeye stood up and began to make his way across the mess tent, BJ leisurely following him.

"Why mess with a good thing?" BJ laughed, pushing his hands deep into his pockets. The two men headed towards the swamp, where they had last seen the other doctor. They peeked quietly through the small window in the door and Hawkeye rubbed his hands together in excitement.

"Haha, he's sleeping."

"Just like a baby," BJ laughed quietly, enjoying this just as much as his friend. The two men snuck into the tent and BJ headed to his foot locker.

"Peg sent you all Erin's old things, didn't she?" Hawkeye asked hopefully. BJ smiled fiendishly as he dug through his belongings.

"Let's get to work!"

* * *

Margaret looked up from her paperwork as she heard Charles yell angrily. She glanced at the patients, most of which were sleeping. She stood up and ran outside, bumping into Klinger.

"What's going on?" she asked.

Klinger shrugged. "Beats me; but I'll bet it's funny." Margaret made her way around the corner just in time to see Charles rip a baby bonnet of his head.

"Pierce!" he bellowed loudly. Margaret put a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh; Klinger wasn't as discreet.

Charles turned an even deeper shade of red as he saw Margaret and Klinger staring at him. Besides the bonnet, Charles had two bright red dots on his cheeks, and a red heart painted across his lips, giving his face the resemblance of a doll. A pacifier was tied around his neck along with a lacy bib and he was angrily clutching a baby bottle filled with rum.

A crowd began to gather in the compound and the quiet snickers soon grew to hysterical laughter.

"Hush little baby don't even hum," BJ and Hawkeye's voices drifted across the compound as they walked towards Charles. "Daddy's going to buy you a bottle of rum!"

Margaret heard Potter chuckle at their twisted lyrics and she smiled in amusement; she couldn't help herself, Charles _did _look ridiculous.

"Pierce," Charles seethed, for some reason he was whispering as the two men approached him. "This is beyond your usual low…" he growled. BJ and Hawkeye only began to laugh louder and Charles' angry demeanor turned to despair.

"Well, Major why don't you just take it off?" Klinger suggested.

Charles was so red his face was beginning to look purple. "It won't come off!" That statement brought the crowd to tears. "These imbeciles glued everything to my clothes, and painted on my face!"

Margaret couldn't help herself and longer and she burst into gales of laughter, joining in with the rest of the camp. Charles angrily stomped back towards the swamp to try and remove his _decorations_.

"Just in case you happed to lose you accessories," BJ called after him. Charles froze and looked back towards the crowd In agony. "If you lose them, don't worry, we have plenty of pictures to remind everyone."

Charles held his head high in the air and steadily walked inside his tent, the laughter only growing at his attempt at dignity.

Hawkeye looked towards Margaret who was wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. As soon as he caught her eye he winked ad her smile quickly vanished as she stomped back into post-op.


	5. Wedding Plans

Everyone kept bugging me about an update so I made it top prority, even though I reeeally wanted to work on Misguided Missiles (I have a few suprises coming) I hope you enjoy the chapter; I made it a bit longer than usual!

Major-Baby

* * *

Margaret happily walked inside the small restaurant, oblivious of her filthy surroundings. She was in Seoul for three days; three glorious days to spend with her fiancé. She sat down at a table and watched the door intently. After almost a half hour she recognized his laugh from across the street. Margaret eagerly stood up and hurried outside. She made it outside just in time to see Donald disappear into a fancy restaurant with a pretty blonde on his arm… a natural blonde, she noted cynically. Margaret choked back an angry scream and headed back to her hotel.

At around seven o'clock that night Margaret picked up the phone in her hotel room and dialed a familiar number.

"Darling, how are you?" she gushed into the phone. On the other end Donald cringed at her cheerful voice, he swore he had the world's worst hangover, but then again that's what he said almost everyday.

"Listen, Margaret…" he began cautiously, thinking up a good reason for standing her up; but Margaret interrupted his thoughts.

"Before you say anything I want to tell you how sorry I am that I couldn't make it today. Wounded started coming in back here at the 4077th and I just couldn't get away."

Margaret took a shaky breath and waited for Donald's reaction.

Donald smirked to himself. "Well, that's alright, Baby. I assumed you couldn't help it, but next time you really should call." He figured he might as well get a little pity so long as his fiancée was willing to give it. "I was waiting for you almost two hours."

Margaret's mouth dropped open at his blatant lie. She steadied her anger and smiled in an attempt to convince herself that she was still in love with this man.

"Oh I am sorry, Darling. Listen, Donald, I've really missed you and I hate being apart from you so much…" she took a shaky breath and plunged forward. "Why don't we set a date for a wedding?"

"You want to get married soon?" Donald stuttered, cringing at his words.

Margaret rolled her eyes and sighed. "Of course I do, Darling," her voice was an irritating pitch and Donald sighed. At least if they were married he could be certain she wasn't still running around with that _Pierce_ character.

He cleared his throat, "When?"

* * *

"Personally, I don't know why she still wears the ring…" Hawkeye picked touchy subject as they began another grueling session in OR.

"Oh come on Hawk," BJ defended Margaret. "It's not as if she plans on being engaged forever," Hawkeye looked at his friend in surprise; it wasn't like BJ to defend the brunt of his jokes, especially not Margaret. "She just wants to stretch it out for as long as possible so he won't force her to cook for him."

Hawkeye laughed as he realized where BJ was taking the conversation. "Hmm, so what will she have to do when they're married?"

"Will you please stop talking about me as if I weren't standing right here?" Margaret tried to interrupt the two men but their combined voices drowned her out.

"Cook the meals, do the laundry, fetch the paper…"

"Fetch the kids," BJ piped in.

"Oh, shut up!" Margaret yelled from across the room where she was assisting Colonel Potter. "Donald completely agrees with me that I should continue working. And as for your previous comment; we happen to be getting married this weekend!" Margaret regretted her statement the moment she said it, she had wanted to wait until the last possible moment to share the news; no one at the 4077th seemed to be very pleased with her choice of husband.

The OR was deathly quiet for the remaining seven hours. Other than the short requests for instruments from the doctors, everyone was silent; except of course for Margaret, who tried over and over again to start up a conversation. Hawkeye really was getting irritated by the sympathetic glances he was receiving from the nurses but he was too deep in thought to do anything about it.

* * *

"Anyone up for a game of poker?" Margaret asked cheerfully. The only reply she received was a few stares. Margaret frowned in confusion and repeated her question as Hawkeye and Potter walked outside.

"I'm game," Hawkeye offered. "Anyone else?" BJ looked at his friend wonderingly and then shrugged.

"Well, I guess I have a little extra money to burn." Margaret smiled happily as Colonel Potter, Charles, Klinger, and Father Mulcahy all agreed to play.

"How about the swamp in ten minutes?" Hawkeye suggested. Everyone agreed and went their separate ways.

"You sure you wanna play, Hawk?" BJ asked. Hawkeye looked at BJ curiously.

"Sure, why wouldn't I want to play?"

"Well, I just figured that with Margaret's wedding this weekend you might want a little space."

Hawkeye rolled his eyes and smiled sarcastically. "Aww, but Mom, I wanna play poker with the rest of the guys," Hawkeye affected a child's voice and tugged on BJ's arm.

BJ laughed and rolled his eyes as the men began to raid their secret stashes of cash.

"Ha-ha, I win, I win!" BJ shouted loudly as he gathered up a large pile of chips. The group groaned and Charles stood up, followed by Father Mulcahy.

"This game is getting a bit rich for my blood," The padre tucked what was left of his money into his pocket and excited the tent.

"While that is hardly my situation, I'm due in post-op." Charles gathered up his winnings and quickly headed for post-op.

"Well, I'm up for another round? How 'bout you?" Hawkeye looked around at the remaining four, his eyes resting on Margaret, who looked down at the table, uncomfortable at the receiving end of his penetrating stare. Klinger sensed the tension and quickly stood up, muttering some excuse.

"Well, I'm in," BJ announced, he wasn't about to leave his best friend alone with Margaret. Colonel Potter seemed to have a similar mind-set as he threw in a chip and began to deal.

"So why did you decide to get married so suddenly?" BJ asked.

Margaret smiled but she was cringing inwardly. She knew his seemingly innocent question was very loaded.

"I just thought it was time," she replied flippantly. Her voice caught in her throat a bit and Hawkeye surveyed her curiously. He wondered what her real reasoning was for deciding so soon.

"Oh, so you felt it was time to get married so you could honorably sleep with him?" BJ shot at her. Hawkeye and Potter stared at him in shock. Margaret's mouth dropped open, rage clearly burning in her eyes.

Potter looked at the man sternly. "Watch yourself, Hunnicut, I want you…"

Hawkeye looked at his friend and cut the Colonel off. "Jesus, Beej, what's got into you?" Hawkeye wasn't all too pleased with Margaret's choices, but he honestly believed she would be happy. He wished his friend could see that she was a big girl and responsible for her own choices.

"I don't think I'm doing anything wrong," BJ defended himself as he angrily stood up. "It's not as if I was pretending I'm the only person in the world that matters." With that final statement he stomped out of the tent, heading for Rosie's.

Hawkeye glanced at Margaret who was shaking with fury. He looked over at Colonel Potter and jerked his head towards the door, quietly asking the man to leave him alone with Margaret.

Potter rose quietly, hoping the younger doctor knew what he was doing.

Once Potter had gone Hawkeye stood up and walked behind Margaret, resting his hands on her shoulders.

"He didn't mean it, Margaret," he said softly. "And I'll bet you twenty bucks he'll be at your tent first thing in the morning telling you how incredible sorry he is."

Margaret stood quickly, brushing his hands away. "I know it," she replied crisply. "Of course he'll apologize but he did mean it. I can tell when a person is being honest with me. Goodnight, Captain." Margaret gave him a final glare before brushing past him and heading for the door.

"Margaret," his voice stopped her and she turned sharply. "I'm happy for you." Margaret's face softened and she almost smiled.

"Thank you, Captain," with that she made her way out into the chilly night air.

Hawkeye wearily sat on his bed and sighed; she certainly had changed quite a bit.


	6. Unwanted Discoveries

Margaret happily walked into a fine restaurant in Tokyo, escorted by her husband of six weeks. A waiter led them to a table set for two.

"Oh Donald it's beautiful," she gushed as she admired the roses and candles. He grunted a response as the waited pulled a chair out for Margaret and then handed them two menus.

"You certainly are quiet tonight," she commented.

"Do you know what you're ordering?" he asked curtly, signaling for the waiter again.

"Well, not really…"

As soon as the waiter arrived at their table Donald ordered for the both of them and Margaret leaned back in her chair in indignation.

"Donald, I can't eat that…"

"Margaret, stop making a scene," he ordered harshly.

Margaret's face turned white with furry and she sat up straight as a board. "Stop making a scene? Donald I…"

"That's an order, _Major_."

Margaret bit her tongue and looked down at her hands which were now resting limply on her lap. She twisted her pathetic ring around her finger before closing her eyes to keep back tears of anger and self-pity.

Shortly after the waiter returned with their two identical meals. Donald began to eat with relish while Margaret only stared at the food hungrily.

"Really, Margaret, stop acting like a child and eat what I ordered," he commanded harshly.

"I can't, Donald I'm not trying to be stubborn, I'm allergic to this," Margaret indicated the food in front of her and Donald sighed in exasperation.

"If I had ordered you soup would you be allergic to that also?"

"Donald, there's cayenne pepper all over this; I can't eat it!"

"Keep your voice down," Donald hissed. "God, Margaret, you're acting so childish. I take you to this very expensive restaurant and you refuse to eat what you order. You are the most ungrateful…"

Donald interrupted himself as he stood up and prepared to leave. "Donald, don't leave." Margaret begged him. "I'll be glad to eat anything you order so long as it doesn't have cayenne pepper all over it!"

"I'll see you at the hotel tonight," he called over his shoulder. He stopped and turned back to her. "You _will_ come back to the hotel tonight."

Margaret stood up slowly and made her way to the front of the building before the waiter ran over to her. "You need pay," he demanded harshly in broken English. Margaret sighed and opened her small purse pulling out a few crumpled bills, she discovered with relief that she had enough to cover the two uneaten meals, although it left her with no money left over. After paying the man she hurried from the building into the chilly November air, making her way back to their hotel.

* * *

"Oh it was wonderful," Margaret began excitedly recounting her trip to Tokyo to her half-interested nurses. "The city was so beautiful and he took me to the most exquisite restaurant…"

"I think she's actually going to make it." BJ commented casually.

"Make what?" Hawkeye picked up a piece of the days "mystery meat" and sniffed it suspiciously.

"Her marriage…" BJ shook his head at his friend's oblivion.

"Damn," Hawkeye threw his fork down and BJ laughed.

"Is the food that bad?"

"Yes, but that's not the problem. If her marriage lasts another two weeks I owe Rizzo twenty bucks.

BJ rolled his eyes and leaned back. "Well you certainly are supportive."

Hawkeye scowled and began poking at the rest of the items on his tray. BJ watched his friend closely, wondering what had put him in such a bad mood. BJ sighed and shook his head, brushing off the growing feelings of suspicion.

* * *

"Nurse Gilmore," Margaret hurried to a young nurse who was helping at the 4077th for a week. Margaret attempted to smile; she wanted to get on this woman's good side. "I see in your file that you just arrived from Tokyo."

Sarah Gilmore smiled tentatively and nodded. "Yes Major, this is my first assignment at the front."

"Well I was wondering if you know my husband; I really hear so little from him and it would be so nice to hear how he's really doing from a third party." Margaret smiled again feeling rather stupid.

Sarah chuckled softly, "Well I'll be glad to help you Major, but I doubt I know him. The majority of my free time I spent with my boyfriend."

Margaret laughed loudly. "Well it's no matter… so you have a boyfriend?" Margaret was still trying to get on this girl's good side, if she did know Donald she wanted every bit of information she could get, and it would help if Sarah actually liked her.

"Mmmhmm, we've been together for almost two months now. He's the most sincere, honest man I've ever met." Margaret smiled and nodded, wishing she could say the same.

"Oh he's gorgeous," Sarah droned on. "Why just the other day Donald told me that he…"

"Donald?" Margaret interrupted harshly. "That's not a very common name."

Sarah smiled and shook her head. "No, and his last name is horrible. _Penobscott_, can you believe it? I could actually be Sarah Penobscott," the girl shuddered playfully. "Maybe I'll convince him to let me keep my maiden name," she joked.

Margaret nodded dumbly and quickly began to back up. She couldn't believe it; Sarah had just said two months… they had been seeing each other for two months; whereas her wedding had been only six weeks ago. Not only was her husband cheating on her but he had been cheating on her before they were even married.

"Well, anyway, what's your husband's name?" Sarah asked cheerfully. Margaret flashed the poor girl a hateful glance and practically ran for her tent.


	7. Poker Anyone?

"I'll take three," Radar threw three cards down on the table and peered suspiciously over the edge of his remaining two. BJ, Charles, Hawkeye, Klinger, Margaret, Father Mulcahy, and Radar were all sandwiched around a table in the officer's club (Potter was on duty in post-op). Even after four hours of poker no one seemed to be ahead.

"Lucky kid must have two of a kind," BJ grinned as he dealt Radar his cards and then turned to Father Mulchahy. "What do you want, Father?"

Father Mulcahy looked upwards and closed his eyes, offering a short prayer. "I'll take two, BJ."

After BJ dealt the man his cards Hawkeye slid one card towards BJ. "I'll have one, my good man." The other seven looked at him nervously, wondering if he was bluffing. BJ sighed and handed Hawkeye a card.

"Well, I'm out," BJ mumbled disappointedly.

"Five dollars," Charles threw a crisp bill into the growing heap in the middle of the table. Hawkeye grinned at the man and raised his eyebrows.

"Sure you want to Chuckles?"

"Quite," the man responded curtly.

Klinger sighed loudly and threw his cards down in disgust. "I haven't had a good hand all night. The only time I won anything is when I bluffed my way through with a lousy king!" He stood up, gathering what was left of his cash. "I'm stopping while I still have twenty dollars left to my name."

Hawkeye grinned. "I sure would hate to be your name."

Margaret rolled her eyes and the bad joke. "Will you keep your mouth shut?" she growled.

Hawkeye snapped his mouth shut and shrugged. "Mmmmm mhhhmmm mhhmmmm," he said, keeping his lips firmly shut the entire sentence.

Margaret glared at him and shook her head. "Why do I bother?" she mumbled.

"I'm in," she declared as she pulled five wrinkled bills from her pocket.

"Mmm, m mhmm m mhmmm mhhmmm."

"He said, 'Oh you have a secret stash?'" Radar piped in, receiving a few odd stares and an amused snort from BJ.

Father Mulcahy stood up slowly laying his cards down softly. "I'm down to my last few dollars. "I had better stop as well."

"Mmmm, mhmm mmmmm mhhhhmm mhhmmm."

"'The night's just begun'," Radar translated, once again.

The padre shrugged and smiled, looking at Hawkeye. "Well for me and my wallet it just ended."

Radar stared at his cards for a moment and then threw in five dollars without saying a word.

Hawkeye looked around at the remaining three players and smiled. "I'll raise you another five," he said grinning at Charles.

"You always think your better than everyone else don't you?" Margaret fumed. She pulled out a ten dollar bill and threw it on the table. "Well I'll see your five and raise you again." Margaret had been stewing about something all day but no one had expected her to blow up, especially not over a game of poker.

"Uh, Major," Charles said softly and yet condescendingly. "It's not your turn. You see in poker, you place bets in order…"

"Oh shut up, Charles." She snapped. "Don't you dare patronize me!" Charles slunk back slightly in his chair and crossed his arms as if he were pouting.

"What's eating you?" Hawkeye asked coolly, knowing that he had better open his mouth and speak correctly unless he wanted to evoke her wrath. "Besides the rats I mean." He just couldn't resist adding a bit of humor.

"Nothing's _eating_ me. And nothing's bothering me either! I just think you have a crappy hand and I'm raising you five!"

"Fine," Hawkeye pulled out another two bills. "I'll see your five and raise you ten."

BJ, who was still sitting at the table, quickly stood up and walked over to the bar and was joined shortly by Radar and Charles. Both Margaret and Hawkeye seemed completely unaware of their absence.

"You certainly are confident of yourself," she seethed. "I don't see why you can never admit that someone may be better than you."

Hawkeye duly noted that she wasn't talking about her hand at all; he wondered what had made her so angry in the first place.

"Maybe, because I always have the best hand," he said, trying to steer her attention back to the game; it didn't work.

Margaret jumped up and slammed her hands on the table, leaning towards Hawkeye. "You always think that everyone should just fold to you! Well what if they drew something better? What if they don't want to fold? Then you make their life miserable! And god forbid that it turns out their hand wasn't so great after all, then you'd make their lives a living hell with all your gloating!" Margaret was breathing heavily and her face was bright red.

All at once Hawkeye realized exactly what she was really talking about. He glanced at the three men at the bar, all seemingly oblivious of the deeper meaning of Margaret's ranting. For a moment Hawkeye was tempted to pity the woman before him. But he made the mistake of playing her words over in his mind and his wounded pride caused his anger to boil up inside.

Hawkeye stood up and leaned across the table, his face only inches away from Margaret's, his steely glare meeting her icy one. When he spoke his voice was so low only she could catch the words. "If your hand is so rotten, it's your own fault. You're the one who threw away the other cards." He growled menacingly. "Don't expect pity or sympathy just because you decide you want your old cards back."

Margaret straightened quickly when she realized Hawkeye had caught on to the double meaning of her rant. "I never said I wanted my old cards back. They were just as rotten if not worse." Her voice was back to normal, cool and collected.

Hawkeye stared at her intensely. "Worse, or just risky?" He held his breath wondering if he should have asked that, he wasn't certain if he wanted the answer.

Margaret stared at him, her stomach churning. He was right and she knew it. Their relationship had been risky, and she had been scared. She was a coward… could she admit it?

"It was a rotten hand," she finally stated.

Hawkeye sighed and straightened up. "You could still make something out of the cards you have."

"It's a crummy hand."

"Well, like I said, it was your choice to get new cards in the first place. Don't expect pity."

Margaret glared at him and marched outside, turning back right outside the doors. "You were the one who dealt me the cards," she said icily before quickly walking towards her tent.

Hawkeye stood motionless for a moment before downing his martini in one gulp, finishing off BJ's ands stalking outside.

BJ and Charles were both keenly aware of what the two former-lovers had been arguing about. Radar however, looked at BJ blankly.

"I thought you dealt her cards." he said naively. BJ snickered and shook his head, walking over to the table to clean up. He knew no one felt like playing any more.

"Why do we allow these things to be co-ed?" he muttered. Out of curiosity, Charles walked over to the table and flipped over Margaret and Hawkeye's cards which they had both flung to the table disdainfully.

"Oh jeez," Radar said softly, looking over the man's shoulder.

BJ leaned over to look and whistled softly. "I didn't even think that could happen."

Charles shook his head in amazement. "The odds are outrageous." The man tossed the cards onto the table. Both Margaret and Hawkeye had been holding a royal flush.


	8. Three Strikes

The next few chapters are pretty much word for word with Comrades in Arms; it's only tweaked slightly to fit my purposes. Now I'm not trying to claim that this is my work. So pleeease don't flame me for this. Just read it... and I hope you enjoy it!

MajorBaby

* * *

Margaret sighed heavily and looked towards BJ; he was the only one's left in the officer's club. "He's cheating on me." She said quietly. BJ nodded and took a sip of his martini.

"Yeah, that's what I gathered. But, I'm sure it was only this one time, Margaret." He tried to encourage her but she only laughed drunkenly.

"Yeah, only this one time." How could he possibly know that this was the second time she caught Donald cheating? How could she know if that was it? Margaret finished off her scotch and stood up shakily. "I'm going to bed."

BJ stood up and grabbed her arm. "Does Hawkeye know?" he asked gently.

Margaret's face turned to stone and she jerked her arm away. "It's none of his business," she hissed. "And it's none of yours; I don't know why I told you, but you will keep it to yourself!"

Margaret barely made it to her tent before she collapsed. She picked herself off the floor and walked across the room, pulling a small picture she had on Donald out of her desk drawer. She stared at it for a moment, contemplating crumpling it up and throwing it away. Instead she laid it gently back in the drawer. He was all she had, she couldn't leave him; she didn't know if she could stand being alone.

"One more," she mumbled quietly. "You get one more chance."

* * *

"As you were," Potter walked into the showers and Hawkeye smiled.

"I'm always as I were; but thanks anyway." He quipped playfully as he rubbed his chest with a bar of soap.

Potter rolled his eyes and continued on with his sentence. "I need a volunteer for a business trip."

"Sorry, I haven't volunteered for anything since my draft board tied me up in a gunny sack and sent me here." BJ stated while laughing.

Undiscouraged, Potter continued. "The 8063rd is all worked up over our arterial transplant technique."

"By god they should," Pierce interrupted. "We're fantastic!"

Potter nodded in agreement and this time Charles rolled his eyes and set his comb down. "What you need is a humility transplant."

"Unfortunately you'll never be a donor," he responded quickly with a smirk.

"They heard we know how to save a leg when the artery is destroyed and the CO up there begged me to send them my best surgeon to teach them the technique."

Charles moaned loudly. "Oh now really, Colonel; I'm far to bust to go traipsing over to every MASH unit that's too lazy to read a paper on the subject." He stated arrogantly.

"You just powder your buns, Major," Potter said without skipping a beat. "I'm sending Pierce."

Hawkeye sighed and put down the bar of soap he was holding. "I thought you said volunteers!"

Potter shrugged and offered a smile. "I was breaking it to ya gently."

"Why me?" Hawkeye whined.

"Indeed, why him?" Charles sniffed in disdain, his ego bruised considerably.

"Because he's done dozens of them," Potter looked at the two men patronizingly. "My goodness but you boys are competitive."

There was a loud knock on the door followed by and all too familiar screech. "Hurry up in there," Margaret yelled. "Your time was up ten minutes ago!"

"You leave at 0800 hours," Potter told Pierce as he walked towards the door. "So pack up you bag and uh, give us a little smile."

"I'm not so sure I love this," Hawkeye said, looking towards BJ.

"Oh and pick a nurse to go with you." Potter said as he walked out.

Hawkeye grinned as he turned off the water. "I'm not so sure I hate it."

Margaret sat in her tent, early the next morning, wondering why on earth she had insisted on going with Hawkeye. When he had been so eager to leave with one of her nurses, she had instantly stiffened and felt as if she needed to defend herself. She sighed and looked at the small clock on her desk.

She gaped and jumped up, she only had ten minutes to get dressed and ready to go. Margaret frantically rushed around her tent and then dashed outside, squinting at the bright sunlight. She saw a jeep parked in front of post-op and she hurried to it and climbed in.

"Hurry up," she yelled when she spotted Hawkeye. "We'll be late." He slowly walked to the jeep and threw in his jacket, uncovering his Hawaiian shirt.

"Is that how you're going to be dressed?" she asked in disdain. Hawkeye rolled his eyes.

"I always try to look my best; you know how jealous those other doctors can be." Hawkeye still couldn't figure out why Margaret wanted to go with him. She had been avoiding him of late; maybe she just wanted to keep him away from the nurses.

Potter walked up, carrying a large box, which he deposited in the back of the jeep. "Here's a box of sulfa and six cans of fancy peaches."

"These aren't sliced peaches," BJ said, walking up behind Potter. "Half peaches, as big as your fist."

"These aren't for you," Potter said firmly as Hawkeye grabbed for the box. "I want you to do a little trading. We need penicillin." Hawkeye sighed and climbed into the jeep. Klinger walked over to Margaret and handed her an envelope.

"Oh here Major, before you go, you got a letter form Lieutenant Colonel Donald Penobscott." He leaned against the jeep, looking over her shoulder as she opened it.

"Will you stand back," she ordered in annoyance.

"Why, is something going to jump out of it?"

"I don't want you reading over my shoulder!"

"What is this stuff?" Potter asked curiously, surveying the full jeep.

"Lipstick, nylons, perfume…" Hawkeye began listing several of the items he was sure Margaret had packed.

"And a jar of Charles' caviar," BJ announced triumphantly, holding up the small jar.

Hawkeye smiled in understanding. "You only get so far with peaches. Did he mind?"

"Didn't say a word; didn't even wake up." Hawkeye laughed and climbed into the jeep, glancing at Margaret who was frowning intensely at her letter.

She grunted and Hawkeye grinned. "Boy, he sure packs a lot into a few sentences."

Margaret quickly folded the letter and glared at him. "Mind your own business!"

Hawkeye started the jeep just as there was an angry shout from the swamp. "Bye, folks, we'll write," he yelled, quickly pulling out of the compound just missing Charles who barreled out of the tent shouting after them.


	9. Bad Day?

Margaret sighed as she stared at the engine of the jeep, wondering if her day could possibly get any worse. She glanced sideways at Pierce who was staring dumbly at the insides of the car and she felt tears welling up behind her eyes. Why had she decided to come? The last thing she needed was to be stranded with her ex-husband behind enemy lines. She wasn't sure if she should be more afraid of Pierce or the Koreans.

She angrily began kicking at the car and Hawkeye groaned. "I tried that already."

Margaret gave up kicking and attacked the insides of the jeep once again.

"Margaret, face it, the patient is dead! Why don't we pull a sheet over its headlights and move on." Hawkeye had noticed tears in her eyes that were threatening to spill. He wondered what was in her letter that could have upset her so much. He tensed as he heard Korean shouts and he quickly touched Margaret's arm.

He ran to the back of the jeep and grabbed their bags before grabbing Margaret's hand and pulling her into the bushes.

Margaret closed her eyes as she heard them rattling around in the jeep. Hawkeye had pulled her close to him and she could smell his cologne mixed with gin and she felt her tears building up again. Here she was in the middle of a field, hiding from people who wouldn't think twice about killing her and the only thing she could thing she could think about was that Donald only smelt of dust and metal.

A soldier approached and Hawkeye tightened his grip on Margaret. The man began poking around in the bushes and Hawkeye offered a prayer to a God he wasn't even sure he believed in. He heard the engine of the jeep start and he breathed a sigh of relief as the soldier stopped searching the area and ran back to the vehicle.

As soon as they drove away Margaret shook off Hawkeye's grip and stared at him angrily.

"I hope you're not blaming me for that." Hawkeye said, noting her furious look.

"How can a grown man be so mechanically incompetent?" she screeched.

He put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "I take a lot of cabs."

* * *

Hours later Margaret unfolded her letter and began to re-read it for the thousandth time. Hawkeye's singing was distracting her and she shot a furious glance his way. "Will you stop that?" 

"It's a civil war marching song," he whined.

"Not another idiotic note!"

"I'm just trying to be military."

Margaret turned her attention back to her letter and Hawkeye watched her curiously as she huffed and grunted several times.

"You know you shouldn't read while you walk," he interrupted her. "It makes you grunt."

"Oh but out you…" she seethed. "…you, you can't even fix a simple case of engine trouble! What kind of a man are you!" Margaret was desperately trying to find reasons why Donald was much more of a man than Hawkeye would ever be. She was having immense trouble doing so.

"Certainly not a service man," Hawkeye said, wondering what he did to evoke her wrath.

"In more ways than one!" she shouted back.

"Come here," Hawkeye reached his arm out and Margaret jumped back as if it were a snake.

"Where are you going?" she sighed as he beg walking in a different direction.

"There's a YMCA over here," he said, motioning to a small hut in shambles. "Let's see if we can check in for the night." Hawkeye had been looking into the woods for any sign of a cave or some sort of shelter, and this certainly looked better than anything else they could find.

"This place is perfect!" he said as he walked inside, Margaret following nervously behind him. "A handyman's delight!"

"I'm not staying here!" Margaret insisted, clutching her bag tightly. "This place is a perfect target."

"Margaret, somebody is obviously using this as a registration point. They're not going to destroy their own benchmark." He sat down and began searching through his bag.

"That's right," Margaret said, taken aback. "I didn't think you knew anything military."

I learned it in the movies," Hawkeye lied. "Abbott and Costello Meet Hitler." He sighed and walked to the window. "I just don't want to walk around out there while it's raining artillery shells." He looked out the window and jumped for his medical bag.

"Margaret, stay where you are, I'll be back in a minute."

Not one to follow directions, Margaret hurried to the window, where she spotted a wounded Korean soldier.

"You're not going out there!" she pleaded. "You just said it was raining artillery shells!"

"I'll run between the drops," he retorted as he ran for the door.

"I'm coming with you," she said firmly, determined to go wherever he went.

"Oh no, every time we try and do something together we have a twenty minute debate about it."

"I won't argue with you," she promised, realizing she didn't want to be left alone. "Just keep low," Hawkeye bent down and she pushed on his back. "Lower!" she insisted.

"I'll dig a tunnel," he said, turning back towards her.

"You know absolutely nothing about soldiering!" Margaret defended.

"I do not want to discuss my every move with you!"

"I'm not saying anything!" Margaret sighed and dropped her bag to the floor. "Fine, I'll stay; do it your way."

Hawkeye turned to go outside just as another shell hit nearby and Margaret grabbed his arm. "Just stay low!"

Hawkeye groaned and hurried towards the soldier as Margaret hurled instruction his way the entire time. Hawkeye checked the young man's pulse and sighed deeply when he couldn't find one. He turned the boy back over just as rocks and debris went everywhere.

"What are you doing?" Margaret screamed. "Get out of there!" Hawkeye stood up and made his way to the hut, coughing in the thick dust.

"What's the matter with you?" Margaret yelled. Hawkeye pushed past her, missing the tears in her eyes. "You go out there and risk your life and then come back without him?"

Hawkeye threw his bag down on a small table and turned towards her slowly. "He's dead," he muttered quietly, seeing her tears.

"_Are they for me?"_

A shell landed against the outside wall of the hut and Hawkeye threw Margaret onto the ground and debris rained around them. Once the dust cleared Hawkeye pulled himself up and winced.

"Alright, you can get off me now," Margaret said coolly, keenly aware of his every movement.

"Yeah well…"

"You better get off me, buster!" she yelled loudly, not liking what his closeness was doing to her.

"I've got something stuck in my leg."

"Oh my God," Margaret pulled herself out from under him.

"_Well this day certainly has gotten worse."_

She ripped his pants and Hawkeye grinned. "Margaret, there's no time for that now; look at my wound."

"Oh knock it off," she commanded. "You're hurt. Do you want some morphine?"

"How bad is it?" he asked, unsure if he wanted an answer. "I can barely feel it."

"You've got a piece of wood stuck in your leg; do you want me to take it out?"

"_Say no, say no, please say no." _

"Of course I do!" he shouted, trying to keep from passing out. "If I want a souvenir I'll go to a gift shop."

"I'm going to put some alcohol on it; it might sting." Margaret took a deep breath and poured the liquid onto his legs, receiving loud scream from Hawkeye.

"Stop twisting!" she ordered. "You're making this very difficult."

"Forget it," he said quickly. "Leave it in."

Margaret nervously tried to get a hold on the wood with a pair of tweezers. She was starting to realize just how much pain he was in. "Just hold still! I can't get a hold of it and I don't want to make things worse."

Margaret finally managed to grab at the wood and pull it out. "There," she declared as she breathed a sigh of relief; his leg wasn't even bleeding too badly. "It's out. Do you want to look at it?"

"Don't be morbid, just clean my leg and out a dressing on it."

"Alright, but it's going to hurt a little; do you want some morphine?"

"Will you stop pushing the morphine?"

Margaret sighed and gave up. "Alright, but this is going to hurt."

A spasm shot down his leg and Hawkeye screamed. "I haven't even touched you yet," Margaret said in disgust.

Hawkeye chuckled and shrugged. "Just practicing."

When she finished bandaging his leg, he pulled himself up and hobbled over to a chair. "The sun's going down," Margaret said sullenly as she followed him. Hawkeye caught her flat tone and sighed.

"Everything's going to work out, Margaret."

She nodded slightly. "Listen, I want to apologize for insisting we go on when we started getting shelled."

"Oh that's alright," he said, beginning to pace the room to get his leg to stop throbbing. "You come from a long leg of military people. Insanity is hereditary."

Margaret sighed, "I probably deserved that."

"No you don't, I was being kind."

Margaret turned around, raising her voice defensively. "I was upset, I wasn't thinking clearly!"

Hawkeye could read her like a book and he knew she wasn't telling him everything. "What's eating you anyway? Is it the letter? What's in it?"

"Never mind!" she shouted, knowing he could usually get any information he wanted out of her.

Hawkeye began to laugh and she looked at him, slightly hurt. "What are you laughing about?"

"I was just thinking how sorry you are going to be that you were mean to me when you see what I brought."

"Probably a bottle of that liquid rat poison of yours," she said sarcastically.

"Ha-ha on you," Hawkeye said as he pulled a glass bottle from his bag. "Japanese scotch."

"Ohh," Margaret said feeling foolish. "So how good could that be?"

"How good does it have to be?" he asked, handing her the bottle.

"Is that cup clean?" she asked as Hawkeye handed one to her.

"It can't be too dirty," inspecting the cup. "Whatever is on the bottom is still alive."

Margaret smiled slightly and grabbed the glass, filling it to the top. She took a hesitant sip and Hawkeye smiled at her. Margaret felt her stomach lurch and she looked down at the table.

"Do you think we'll ever get out of here?" she asked quietly.

"I was about to ask you the same question."

"I don't like the war you know!" she said defensively. "I hate it! I hate the destruction, the stupidity of the waste, the disruption of personal lives…" Her voice cracked and she knew she had better stop before she completely fell apart.

Hawkeye surveyed her closely and shook his head sadly. "Margaret, what's in the letter?"

His voice was so quiet, and so caring Margaret felt herself loosening up. She didn't know if she could trust him. With the small information the letter contained he could either comfort her, which was unlikely. Or make her life a living hell. She took a deep breath and took the letter out of her pocket.

"_Don't do it you idiot!"_ Margaret panicked and quickly began to backtrack.

"Ah well," she began sarcastically. "It probably would hand you a laugh actually," she said cynically as she unfolded the letter. "For instance…"

"_My dear Darlene…"_

Hawkeye looked at her blankly. "Is that your nickname?"

"No!"

"Then why is he calling you Darlene?"

"He's not calling me Darlene! He put this letter in the wrong envelope." Margaret paused and looked across the table at Hawkeye, picking apart his every movement.

He looked over at her, his eyes full of pain. Not for himself, but for her. Margaret's eyes filled with tears and she hurriedly looked down at the letter and began to continue. She knew he wouldn't hurt her; not tonight anyway. For tonight she had a friend.

* * *

this is chapter 9... duh. I have ten and eleven all typed out. ) If I get eight reviews I'll update! (isn't blackmail great?) I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

MajorBaby


	10. Confusion

"_I know you heard I'm married. I'm sure you'd like her. She's competent and a hard worker. She'll make an excellent hostess when we return to the states. All in all, a sturdy woman."_

Margaret looked across the small table, crumpling the letter in disgust. "Sturdy!"

Hawkeye sighed and leaned up against the table. "Sturdy is nice," he tried pathetically. "Sturdy can be very…uh,"

"I mean nothing to him!" she wailed. Hawkeye knew it was impossible to argue the point. "The worst part is this woman, with the ocean whooshing all over her toes, is at this moment reading the letter he meant for me!"

Hawkeye tried his best to keep from seeing the irony of it all. "I'm sorry, Margaret, you must really hurt."

"Hurt? Do you know what it feels like to give your heart to somebody?" She sat down in defeat, emotion clogging her voice. She tossed the letter onto the table and shook her head. "And then find out your sturdy?" her voice was rising again and she angrily finished off her drink. "Our marriage is nothing more than a convenience to him… nothing but a joke between him and his friends."

Margaret realized a bit too late what she had just said. _A joke…_ She looked across the room towards Hawkeye. The understanding look in his eyes proved that he knew exactly what she was feeling.

Margaret chocked back another sob and Hawkeye watched her sadly. He understood more than she realized. He could take everything she had just said and twist it into what he had been feeling of late. He knew he had to say something but he was too much of a coward to form the words.

"And then to have them lob artillery shells at you, huh?" How pathetic; he knew it was but it was the best he could come up with.

"It's certainly been an interesting day," she spat.

Hawkeye stood up slowly, wincing at the shooting pains in his legs. "Margaret, I wish there was something I could say to ease the pain,"

"_Here goes," _he thought. He took a deep breath, praying she would listen to him and try and understand.

"I'm alright," her harsh voice interrupted his thoughts. "I've always taken great pride in the fact that I can adjust to anything.

Hawkeye smiled slightly, knowing she wasn't the least bit _alright._ "Come on, Margaret; get it out of your system."

"I'm fine," she assured him, a bit too forcefully. "Thanks for the drink."

"Do you want some more?" Hawkeye reached for the bottle and handed it to her.

"A sip, maybe." She took the bottle and poured half of it into her cup.

Hawkeye raised his eyebrows. _Alright? This woman certainly wasn't alright._ He watched in amusement as she gulped down the liquid and stood up.

"I'll sleep over there," she announced, indicating the far corner of the hut. She picked up a thick stick and carried it with her. "Oh, and if you come over during the night, announce yourself, I swing this to kill."

Hawkeye smiled cynically and nodded. "Goodnight." He blew out the candle and made his way around the table. He sat down and sighed.

"_What the hell am I doing?"_ he asked himself bitterly. _"Go over to her you idiot!" _Hawkeye groaned inwardly as he heard muffled sobs coming from her side of the hut.

"That bastard," he muttered quietly of Donald. Hawkeye painfully laid down and closed his eyes, trying his hardest to ignore the thoughts racing through his mind.

Just as his eyes finally closed and he was drifting off to sleep, the ground shook roughly and he heard Margaret scream. His eyes jerked open and he sat up, frantically looking around the dark room.

Margaret was rambling incoherently and Hawkeye hurriedly lit a candle. "Shh, Margaret, wait a minute!" he dragged his body over to her as she screamed into the dark woods.

Another shell landed near the hut and Hawkeye was thrown onto the floor, Margaret stayed on her knees, still screaming for it to stop.

"Margaret, come here," Hawkeye yelled sternly, his voice could barely be heard over the shelling. He lifted her jacket up and wrapped it tightly around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, leaning towards him. "I'm afraid."

Me too," he said quickly, pulling her close, "So am I."

"I don't like being afraid," she cried, "It scares me."

"Me too," he tried propping himself up to pull her closer. "I'd be a lot braver if I wasn't so scared."

His humor was lost on Margaret as she pushed herself tightly against his chest. "Please hold me," she begged.

Hawkeye looked at her closely; his arms were already wrapped tightly around her. "I'm holding you," he assured her."

"I can't feel it, hold me, please hold me," she was sobbing hysterically and Hawkeye didn't think he could hold her any tighter.

"Margaret, I am, I'm holding you." Another shell crashed down and Hawkeye pulled her head down, finding that he could indeed hold her closer.

"Cut it out," he shouted, "Do you want to kill us?" Dust started raining down around them as they both shouted towards the sky. He turned his head the other way and his cheek brushed against Margaret's gently. She looked at him in shock, her tears disappearing rapidly.

She had forgotten how his eyes looked when you were lucky enough to be this close to him. It reminded her of the, dark blue waters of the ocean he loved so dearly.

Another shell went off and Margaret pulled his face towards hers and kissed him firmly. As they continued kissing Margaret found tears welling up behind her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, pulling away from him.

Hawkeye brushed the tip of her nose with his lips, his mind screaming at him to stop. He couldn't stop; it had been too long since he had held the woman he loved so close.

* * *

Hawkeye moaned as he squinted in the bright morning light. He tried to stretch his arms but his right arm was pinned down firmly beneath Margaret. He raised his eyebrows, slowly remembering the events of the night before. His stomach tightened and he felt himself panicking.

He remembered the last time he had woken up like this. One week later he was wandering around camp in a drunken stupor while Margaret traipsed around with her precious Lieutenant Colonel. There wasn't a chance in the world he was about to let it happen again. Margaret began to stir and he looked away, ordering himself to keep his heart far away from her reach.

* * *

"You got any idea of what that was all about?" BJ asked, taking a long gulp of his beer.

"I think so, yeah." Hawkeye sat down across from his friend and frowned. "How would you like to save my life again?"

"Sure, you want me to fight her for ya?" BJ grinned and Hawkeye shook his head.

"I need some advice," he replied seriously. "We were scared and lonely and we turned to each other. Only, I turned away first. I guess I insulted her and I don't know what to do about it."

BJ shrugged. "Talk to her," he answered simply.

"Yeah, well I thought of that," Hawkeye sighed and shook his head again. "Only I'm afraid if we make up it's liable to start all over again."

BJ frowned, he was starting to realize what was really bothering his friend. "Are you afraid of her or of you?"

Hawkeye looked at him blankly. "Why should I be afraid of me?"

BJ shrugged. "Sounds like maybe you still feel something for her and it scares you."

Hawkeye rolled his eyes. "I feel something for her? Are you nuts? I felt something?"

BJ chuckled and grinned. "Do you know who you sound like?"

"Romeo Montague?" Hawkeye replied cynically.

"Hotlips Houlihan," BJ responded quickly. "You've got her denial routine down pat."

"Hawkeye shook his head and smiled slightly. "Don't be crazy," he said, brushing off his friends insightful words. He sighed deeply, playing with his beer bottle. He had to stop and think about what BJ had just said. After everything she had said and done to him, was it possible that he still loved her?"

"Well actually," he began, somewhat nervously. "Even while I was screaming and yelling at her a while ago, part of me was remembering the night before."

"So talk to her," BJ reasoned logically. "What's the worse that could happen? You'd have to admit you still care? Give a little, you've got plenty to spare."

Hawkeye only smiled in response.

* * *

Okay, let's all say it together... "Awwww" lol. Okay, so there's just a tad bit more of CIA in the next chapter and then it's back to the original plot. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! I'm glad you all liked the last one! That's the most reviews I ever ogtten in one night!!! Thqanks a million!

MajorBaby


	11. Telltale Signs

Alright, I know some of you were aggravated that I've been using CIA for the last three chapters. Sorry, but I needed to use it because of where I'm going with this story. I could have come up with something original but I would of had to incorporate most of the circumstances of CIA. It would have been lame so I might as well use CIA. Anyway, the first half of the chapter is still from the episode but then it gets back to my writting. Sorry if anyone was dissapointed!

MajorBaby

* * *

Margaret sat on her bed, staring at the letter she had just written.

"_Oh god, am I doing the right thing?" _she must have asked herself that same question hundreds of times. But every time she let her mind wander over the events of the past two days she wanted to kick herself.

"_How could I have been so stupid?" _The other night she had wanted to believe so desperately that he still loved her. That there was even a small chance that he could still care after everything she had done. She pictured the look on his face when she had said her marriage to Donald was nothing but a joke; that cynical depressed smile.

And then he had kissed her. She had thought that kiss was the answer to her question. _"I guess it wasn't." _

She looked up at a light rap on her door. "Yes?"

"Don't call the police, I just want to talk." Margaret stiffened as his familiar voice drifted to her ears. She sighed and got off her bed, yanking her door open harshly.

"Hurry up, don't let anyone see you," she said sternly. The last thing she wanted was to give her nurses yet another thing to gossip about.

"Don't worry," he said quickly. "Nobody saw."

"You can't hang around my tent like this; do you want people to talk?"

Hawkeye saw the remaining twinge of hurt mixed with anger in her eyes and he sighed.

"Margaret, I came to level with you." Something happened out there; to both of us. Maybe we still care for each other a little more than we'd like to admit. I don't see why we can't own up to that. We might even turn out to be friends"

Margaret glared at him. _Friends,_ it made her angry just thinking that he dared use that word. She didn't want him to admit he still _cared_ for her. She wanted him to tell her he still loved her. And she knew she certainly didn't have to admit that _she_ felt anything for him, it was obvious enough; to her anyway.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" she complained, her voice rising. "Nothing happened out there; not a thing!"

"_God Margaret, that was stupid. Nothing happened out there… yeah, you don't believe that for one second."_

"Wait a minute," Hawkeye started nervously. "Nothing happened, that's what you're trying to tell me?"

"Not unless you took advantage of me while I was drunk!" Margaret prayed he would just let the matter drop.

Hawkeye smiled and chuckled slightly. "You know for a minute I thought I liked you too much, but I don't think I have to worry."

Margaret felt an unexpected pang of guilt and she reached out and touched his shoulder. "No, wait just a second." He was only trying to mend the small bit of friendship they shared. She knew she had crewed things up the second she saw Donald walk into her hotel in Tokyo. She had lost the man who meant the most to her, but at least she could still be friends.

"_What can do to make him understand?" _She remembered the letter she had just finished and she pulled out a chair. "Here, sit down," she offered.

She looked him straight in the eye and nodded. "I think we can be friends." It was a simple statement, but to her it meant that she was giving up everything she dreamed of. Could he understand that?

"Okay…" Hawkeye looked at her blankly, wondering if she was going to continue.

"I would agree to that." Margaret said crisply.

"Fine," Hawkeye smiled cynically. "I'll have me lawyer draw up a contract."

Margaret looked down for a moment and then smiled at herself. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I'm not a very open person sometimes," a hint of bitterness crept into her voice that Hawkeye didn't even catch. She couldn't believe she had just said that when the man sitting across from her was the most secretive and closed person she knew.

"Look nothing will be different," he assured her. "Not between you and me or you and Donald." Margaret cringed inwardly at those words. Why couldn't he understand that she wanted everything to change?

"Oh I don't expect thing to be the same with Donald."

Hawkeye sighed, "You're not leaving him are you? All he did was send you a letter he wrote for somebody named Darlene. I'm sure the letter he meant for you was just as nice."

"_What the hell did he say that for?" _Margaret smiled and raised her head, smiling victoriously.

"I'm sending him a letter back; a very carefully worded letter."

"_Dear Hank…"_ She looked up at Hawkeye who was smiling broadly. "Do you like Hank?" she asked playfully. "Pr maybe I should make it Dirk or Lance."

"No, no, Hank is nice. Hank will make him crazy."

"_Dear Hank, I'll never for get the night we spent in that abandoned hut. You gave me your warmth and your caring when I was afraid. And now I think form time to time when I'm afraid again I may have the courage to let another person know it. You've helped me to grow a little. Thank you, Hank." _

She looked up at him, her eyes begging him to understand her truce; begging him not to brush her off again. Hawkeye smiled gently. Her simple thank you touched him, he saw the hopeful look in her eyes and his smile deepened.

"Thank you Darlene," he responded gently. He stood up, squeezing her hand gently as he did so. "Goodnight, Margaret."

Margaret's face began to feel very hot and she struggled to smile. She didn't want him to leave, not so soon. "Goodnight," she choked out, her voice clogging with emotion.

Hawkeye looked at her curiously and sat back down. "Look, Margaret, I know he hurt you, but I'm sure you can work things out, you don't have to send the letter; I'd be all too happy to keep it."

Margaret shook her head. Did he honestly think she was still upset about Donald? She had caught him cheating before, why would it be different now?

"It's not Donald," she said quietly and then hurriedly began to backtrack. "I mean nothing's wrong, I'm perfectly fine."

Hawkeye smiled and rolled his eyes. "Then why did you say it wasn't Donald?"

"Because I know how think, now leave me alone!" her voice was rising again and Hawkeye stood up.

"Aw come on Margaret, can't we be civil to each other for more than five minutes?"

"I just want to be left alone!" She chuckled at her wording. The last thing she wanted was to be left alone. Oh well, he got the point.

"Why do I get the feeling you haven't been very honest to me tonight?" Hawkeye asked; his voice soft and gentle.

Margaret tossed her head defiantly. "Only you would say that I haven't been honest after everything I just told you. That's so typical of you Pierce. You know you…"

"Margaret, do you know that your nostrils flare when you're lying?"

Margaret's face paled. Was he bluffing?

Hawkeye laughed at the expression on her face. "You don't trust me?" he asked. He walked to her desk and picked up a small hand mirror. "Take this," he handed it to her and Margaret stared at him blankly.

"Hold it up to your face," he instructed. Margaret held up the mirror in annoyance, glancing sideways at Hawkeye nervously.

"Did you lie to me at all tonight?" he asked seriously. Margaret sighed and looked over at him. "Hawk…"

"Don't look at me," he laughed. "Look in the mirror and answer me. Did you lie to me tonight?"

Margaret took a deep breath. "No," she said firmly. Immediately her nostrils flared and she dropped the mirror covering her nose with her hand. The mirror shattered at her feet and Hawkeye chuckled quietly.

"Come away from that glass," he held out his hand and took her towards the door. "I take it no one ever noticed that about you before?"

Margaret glared at him. "How long have you known that?" she asked icily.

"Why, do you lie often?" Seeing Margaret's angry expression Hawkeye quickly put his hands on her shoulders.

"I didn't show you that to make you angry. I just wanted you to know that it doesn't work when you lie to me." He grinned suddenly. "Oh, and in answer to you question, I've known about it since two weeks after I met you."

Margaret's eyes grew wide and Hawkeye slipped out the door. She stayed in her doorway as he crossed the compound watching him sullenly.

Hawkeye tried to sort out his thoughts. Friends…they could be friends…that could work. She had been lying to him when she said they could be friends. He had noticed it but he wasn't sure what to think of it. Did that mean she wasn't even willing to be civil around him?

Hawkeye turned around to look at her tent. To his surprise she was still standing by the open door, watching him as he walked away. He smiled softly while looking at her. Her hair was brushed neatly, her uniform perfect. She was leaning up against the doorpost, hands in her pockets.

"Margaret," he called loudly. She shrugged, waiting for him to finish. He wasn't sure what he was going to say. But, something just didn't feel right.

He jogged back to where she was standing and leaned up against the door frame, and arm around each side of her, pinning her to the canvas.

"Do you still love me?" his voice was harsh and it made Margaret shiver. She looked down at the ground nervously.

"Damn it Margaret, look at me and answer!" he shouted.

"Why are you yelling?" she hissed menacingly. "Do you want to wake up the whole camp?"

"Because I'm tired of you lying to me." He had lowered his voice but his tone was still harsh and unforgiving.

"Yes." Margaret managed to keep her voice steady and even. Her eyes were sparking angrily. "Yes Captain, unfortunately I believe I do still love you." Her voice was harsh and her body remained ridged.

"_It certainly sounds like you love him, idiot" _Margaret cursed at herself silently. Why was it impossible for her to be mild and sweet like all the girls he loved?

Hawkeye backed up a few steps allowing Margaret to move where she pleased. She quickly backed into her tent, slamming the door behind her.

As soon as the door closed Hawkeye put his hands onto his aching head. She loved him, and she was damn well telling the truth too. Hawkeye shook his head in confusion.

"_Do I love her" _He chuckled scornfully. _"Of course you love her you idiot. That's not the question. The question is does she love you? Does she really love you or will she toss you aside as soon as she sees a handsome soldier?" _

Hawkeye sighed deeply and watched Margaret's shadow as she sat at her desk, brushing her hair. _"Do I even care? Even if she does leave me again will it be worth it just to hold her one more time?"_

Hawkeye came so close to knocking on her door but he quickly changed his mind. _"No, that would be too humiliating. I refuse to let her make me go through that again." _

He sighed, still only inches away from her door and still watching her as she moved around her tent doing god knows what.

"_Does she love me enough to love only me?"_

His mind wandered to two nights before. He remembered the look on her face when she bitterly stated that her husband looks at their marriage as a joke. He could clearly picture the guilty look in her eyes as she glanced sideways at him, trying to read his expression.

"Yeah," he muttered almost inaudibly. "Yeah, she does."


	12. Time For A Change

Margaret tossed fretfully in her bed that night. Every half hour she got up and began to pace the small tent anxiously while thousands of questions flew through her head.

_Why did he ask me if I love him? Isn't it obvious that I do? Why was he so angry? Why didn't he say anything after I answered him? _

At almost three in the morning Margaret sat down at her desk, completely exhausted. She unenthusiastically picked up her brush and began to tug it through her knotted hair. The brush caught on her tangled ends and she through it down despairingly, looking at her hair in disgust. She remembered when it still felt so silky smooth when she would run her fingers through. Now it was quickly beginning to resemble straw.

She pulled it back and picked up a hand mirror, pondering what she would look like with a shorter, trendier cut. Impulsively she stood up and grabbed her jacket. She was so tired of everything in her life; she desperately needed something to change. She jerked open the door of her tent and headed for post-op, hoping she could sneak into the lab.

Margaret hurried across the compound shivering in the biting night air. When she reached the building she opened the door hesitantly and walked inside, looking about the room for a nurse. Much to her relief there was no one but sleeping patients and she quickly made her way into the lab and began gathering what she needed.

* * *

At a little past three Hawkeye walked slowly past Margaret's tent for what seemed like the millionth time. He glanced inside, noticing that her light was off for the first time in hours. She must have finally gone to sleep. The thought troubled him slightly and he walked up to her door, preparing to knock. Just as his fist was about to make contact with the door, his brain kicked in and he backed up. The same thing had been happening since he had walked away from the tent, almost seven hours before.

Hawkeye crossed his arms over his chest and felt like screaming in frustration. More than anything he wanted to rip off the wooden door, pick Margaret up and never let go. But every time he stepped near her tent he chickened out and then went walking aimlessly around the compound.

"What are you doing?" her voice quietly called from behind him.

Hawkeye laughed cynically, wondering how she had managed to slip out of her tent without him noticing. Hawkeye slowly turned around gasping slightly in shock.

"What happened?" he walked close to her and grabbed at a lock of her hair. "You cut your hair," he said in disbelief. "and it's red?"

"It's three in the morning," her normal tone of voice returning. "What are you doing outside my tent?"

Hawkeye looked down at her as she stared up at him defiantly. "I was just headed for the latrine and I thought I heard you still up." His voice was cold and harsh and he wondered why he couldn't just tell her the truth. "Goodnight Major." He nodded curtly and headed for the swamp, kicking himself for being such a coward.

* * *

Margaret brushed passed Radar as she headed into Colonel Potter's office early the next morning. "Colonel, I need a pass for Tokyo." She pleaded urgently.

"Not a chance, Major." He replied firmly without looking up from his paperwork. Margaret stomped over to his desk, placing both hands onto his desk.

"Colonel, please. I need to talk to Donald." Potter looked up, suprised at the sight of her ahir, but he thought it best not to mention it.

"Donald?" Margaret nodded frantically and the old man sighed. "I'm sorry Major, I can't spare you both."

"Both?" Margaret stared at him blankly, on the verge of despair. "Colonel, if there's any chance for me to save my marriage I have to get to Tokyo."

"Oh," Potter realized what Margaret was talking about. "I thought… well, never mind. I'll give you the pass but is there anything you want to talk about?"

The compassion in his voice was a welcome sound and Margaret smiled gently. "No, not right now anyway."

Potter nodded in understanding. "Go pack, Margaret. I'll give you five days."

* * *

Margaret walked wearily into a large hotel in Tokyo, oblivious to her rich surroundings. She had called Donald a few hours before and he had agreed to meet her; now she was constantly rehearsing what she was going to say to him. She carted her heavy suitcase into the elevator, and sighing in impatience as the elevator operator held the door for a man running in from the lobby.

"Oh, well maybe I'll take the next one." A man's voice jerked Margaret into reality and she gasped as she recognized the voice.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she shrieked.

Hawkeye smiled cynically as he stepped into the elevator. "I needed a break, I asked Potter for a pass and he gave it to me." He turned his attention to the man beside him. "Level three please."

Margaret looked at the floor in embarrassment, realizing what the Colonel must have thought when she had asked for a pass. She looked back up at Hawkeye, shooting an icy glare his way. "Just stay away from me and my husband."

Hawkeye met her gaze with an equally penetrating stare. "I'd be all too happy to oblige." The doors slid open and Hawkeye walked across the narrow hallway, opening the door directly across from the elevator. "Hurry up Margaret, your prince charming is waiting." With that he quickly closed the door to his room and Margaret wearily leaned against the wall and stared down at her perfectly shined dress shoes.

"Ma'm which floor?" Margaret sighed and lifted her eyes. "I'm getting off here," she told him reluctantly. He nodded and the doors slid open once again. Margaret stepped off the elevator and walked past three doors to her left and knocked hesitantly.

Donald opened the door and stood aside to let her in the room, without even the smallest word of greeting. Margaret set her suitcase aside and looked at Donald expectantly.

"I don't even get a kiss anymore?" she asked, trying to smile.

"You're late," he said curtly, sitting down in the only seat in the room. Margaret smiled again, trying not to let her emotions get the best of her.

"Well, you said you needed to talk to me," he said sharply. "What is it?"

Margaret took a letter out of her pocket, the one she had written with the intent to send to Donald. "I got a letter from you a few days ago," she began cautiously. "It upset me and I sat down and wrote a letter back to you."

"I haven't gotten any letters from you."

Margaret handed him the sheet of paper she was clutching nervously. "I never sent it."

Donald quickly scanned the letter before crumpling it up and throwing it in the corner. Margaret stooped down and picked it up. "You don't know anyone named Hank," he said dismissively.

Margaret took a deep breath. "And I'm sure you don't know anyone named Darlene."


	13. Questions

Donald's countenance darkened and he stood up.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Margaret glared back at him defiantly. "Donald, this is the fourth time I've caught you red-handed. God only knows how many other women there were. I want this marriage to work but you can't…"

"If you want this marriage to work you can't question me!" he snapped. Margaret hung her head and tried to swallow her anger.

"Donald why…?"

"I said don't question me! Now who the hell is Hank?" Margaret's mouth dropped open in furry.

"You just said I don't know anyone named Hank."

"I know you don't. But you're not original enough to come up with a letter like that. Hank is a real person, even if the name is fake."

"So you can question me but I can't question you?"

"If you don't like it, get a divorce," Donald smiled slyly and moved towards his wife, wrapping his arms around her waist. "But we both know you won't do that. You need me too much."

Margaret felt like crying, she knew he was right. She was far too much of a coward to leave, no matter how unfaithful he was he was. She didn't want to be alone, and Hawkeye had made it clear enough that he detested her. And how could she blame him after she flung him aside at the first sight of brass?

"Margaret who were you alone with in that hut?" he asked angrily, shaking her a bit to catch her attention.

"Pierce," she blurted out. Margaret gasped slightly at the realization of what she had just said. A heavy feeling of impending doom rested on her and she quickly backed up. "It was nothing, Donald. We were scared and there explosions and…"

Pierce?" Donald shouted in a rage, closing the gap between them. "This wouldn't by any chance be the same Pierce that you were married to would it?"

Margaret let out a sob and Donald shook her roughly. "You had an awfully bad reputation when I married you, but I thought that you had enough sense to straighten out when your marriage was at stake."

"Me?" Margaret screamed at the top of her lungs. "What about you? You're the one who's been sleeping around with every girl you lay your eyes on!"

"That's none of your business!" he roared. "I want you to transfer to Tokyo; I'm sick and tired of worrying about that damn doctor!"

"There's nothing to worry about! He hates me," Margaret choked on the last few words and hung her head.

"Then why do you still wear the ring he gave you?"

Margaret head flew up. "I do not!"

"So if you gave me your dog tags right now his ring wouldn't be attached to them?"

Margaret sat down wearily on the bed. "Donald, I want this marriage to work. I really do. Can we just let bygones be bygones?"

"No more questions?"

Margaret shook her head in defeat. "No more questions."

Donald smiled, his entire demeanor suddenly changed as he sat down beside her, kissing her neck. "Well then Mrs. Penobscott. This marriage will work just fine."

Margaret looked at him in shock; she couldn't believe he had just kissed her. Donald walked across the room and flicked off the light switch. Margaret took a deep breath and slipped off her shoes.

_Is this what I really want? A marriage with a man I don't love?_

Margaret sighed slightly as Donald sat down on the bed, reaching for her waist. With tears rolling silently down her face, Margaret allowed him to pull her backwards onto the bed.

* * *

After Hawkeye had left Margaret in the elevator he had slid down to the floor of the hotel room, his back resting against the door. He heard the elevator doors open again and Margaret's heels click loudly against the wooden floors. He heard her yelling. He heard Donald yelling back. And then he heard her crying. Now everything was silent, and Hawkeye couldn't decide which was worse.

A quick look at a clock told him it was nearing midnight and he wearily picked himself off the floor and headed for the small bed. Just as he lay down there was a loud cry from down the hall. He jerked up, his ears straining for another sound. He could hear hushed but angry voices, starting back up again and he headed for the door.

* * *

Margaret scooted towards Donald slightly, wanting some sign of affection from him. He pushed her away slightly before rolling onto his side, facing away from her.

"Do you love me at all?" she asked quietly.

"Do you love me?" he countered stoically. Margaret sighed and closed her eyes, wishing she could fall asleep. There was a sharp pain in the back of her neck and she cried out loudly. Her eyes flew open and she looked towards Donald who was holding something shiny right above her eyes.

"What an odd ring," he commented of the engagement ring, attached to the chain behind her dog tags.

"Give me that," she hissed, grabbing for the chain, still not believing that he had ripped it off her neck. Donald stood up, barely visibly in the dark room.

"Why do you want your old wedding ring so badly?" he asked mockingly.

"It wasn't my wedding ring," she argued. "He told me it was a birthday present."

"Oh, good," he said triumphantly, removing the ring from the rest of the items on the chain. "That means it has even less sentimental value."

Margaret heard him crossing the room and suddenly light flooded in as Donald pulled back the blinds and opened the window, letting in the freezing cold air and the noise from the busy street below.

Margaret shivered, wearing nothing more than a slip, but then suddenly felt herself panicking as Donald held his left hand out of the window, the hand that contained her ring.

"Donald don't you dare!" she shrieked, running for him. Donald kept his clenched fist high above her reach and looked her straight in the eye.

"I'm tired of competing with that jackass!" he shouted. "You're my wife do you understand? My wife!"

"Of course I'm your wife," Margaret said flippantly. "But that ring was a gift, I want to keep it. Or at least give it back to Hawkeye; I could do it now if you like." Margaret was desperate to get Donald away from the window.

"Oh so you call him Hawkeye now?" Donald asked in irritation. "And what do you mean you could give it back now?"

Margaret paled considerably. She knew Donald would never believe that she hadn't planned on being in Tokyo with Pierce.

Donald caught the change in his wife's expression and he realized what she had meant. "He's here?" his voice was so low it made Margaret's knees tremble slightly from fear. "Where is he?" his voice was now far from low, on the contrary he was yelling as loudly as he could.

"I don't know, I just saw him in the elevator…"

"Liar!" he screamed, pushing her away from him. Donald stood with his back to her for a moment but then turned and quickly approached, his eyes flashing menacingly. "You wanted to go to him the second I was asleep."

"No…" Complete panic had set in and Margaret would have screamed for help if she thought it would do any good.

"You're my wife and you won't sleep with anyone but me!" He looked down at the ring in his hand and tossed it towards the window in rage. Margaret watched in despair as it teetered on the edge of the window sill before slipping off the edge.

She let out another cry and Donald grabbed her shoulder's roughly pushing her onto the bed for the second time that night.

"Donald, stop, not right now." She rolled over and tried to grab for her skirt.

"Whenever I want you, I'm going to get you." He lunged for her and threw her onto the bed.

"Donald please, you're upset, you're hurting me."

"You're mine to do whatever I please with."

That sentence sent a shiver of terror down her spine. "Pierce!" she tried to scream out his name at the top of her lungs, but she was cut off with a heavy blow from Donald.

"He's within earshot?" he asked incredulously. "So you were lying to me, you know exactly where he is. You're nothing but a common prostitute, using whatever man you please to get exactly what you want." Donald climbed on top of her, pinning down her arms. "I won't have my wife sleeping with other men."

With that final statement he attempted to remove her slip, but found he was obliged to release her arms to do so. Margaret took a crazy chance and brought her leg up fast and hard, her knee contacting just where she wanted it to.

Donald crumpled to the floor and she made a mad dash for the door. Donald managed to grab her ankle, sending her reeling into the desk. But ignoring the throbbing pains in the side of her face and now in her chest, she struggled free and made it into the hallway.


	14. Time To Run

Hawkeye had struggled to hear their second argument, their voices fading in and out of his hearing range. He heard Donald's voice quite a bit more than Margaret's which bothered him slightly. Margaret was usually the one to be screaming, he wondered why she was so quiet. He was just about to give up and go to bed when he heard a loud crash. There was silence for a moment and then he nearly jumped out of his skin when there was a loud knock on his door, only inches away from his ear.

"Hawkeye, please open the door." Margaret pleaded, the urgency in her voice worrying him. He unlocked the door as quickly as possible and as soon as it was open Margaret stumbled inside. He stared at her scantily clothed body blankly, the door still wide open.

"Shut the door," she urged. "Bolt it."

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Hawkeye the door, hurry." She was almost in tears and as Hawkeye moved to do as she requested he spotted Donald out of the corner of his eye, barreling towards them as he struggled to put a shirt on. All at once Hawkeye began to piece together what had happened and he slammed the door shut just in time. Donald began shouting obscenities while pounding on the door and Hawkeye looked at Margaret who had dropped onto the bed hanging her head in humiliation.

Hawkeye noticed swelling above her right eye and he felt his anger boiling up and he began to think of all the thousand of things he knew, as a doctor, he could do to Penobscott.

"Get me out of here," her quiet voice brought him back to reality and he quickly grabbed his robe from out of his suitcase and handed it to her. He then proceeded to head over to the window and look around.

"Come on," he said urgently. "There's a fire escape a few feet over."

"A few feet? Are you crazy? We're three stories up!"

Hawkeye ignored her protests and cautiously steeped out onto a narrow ledge underneath the window sill.

"Just fight him!" she begged.

"Fight him? Margaret he's twice as big as I am! I prefer to runaway like a real man. Now come on." Margaret felt her heart drop into her stomach as she saw him jump and she hurried to the window.

"Are you insane?" she screeched when she saw he had landed safely on the fire escape, four feet away.

"Come on Margaret, it's not that far of a jump." Margaret looked at him hesitantly and climbed out of the window. Donald threw his body against the door, almost breaking the wood around the bolt.

"Margaret, will you hurry up?" He backed up a few steps and Margaret jumped, landing almost two feet away from the edge of the platform.

"See? That wasn't so bad." He grabbed her hand and the two hurriedly made their way down the metal steps. Just as they reached the ground Margaret looked up and saw Donald looking down at them.

"Pierce!" he shouted loudly. Hawkeye looked up and rolled his eyes.

"Come on Margaret," he helped her down the final few feet and then looked up at Donald.

"Stay away from her Pierce!"

"I should be saying the same to you," Hawkeye mumbled under his breath.

"She's my wife!"

Margaret pulled on Hawkeye's sleeve lightly. "Come on Hawkeye, let's just go."

"She might be your wife but she's certainly not your property!" he shouted back angrily, ignoring Margaret's pleas. "I don't know why she agreed to marry you, but you're damn lucky she did, because you don't even come close to deserving her, you arrogant jackass!"

Margaret closed her eyes, wishing Hawkeye hadn't just said that. "Can we go now?" she hissed. Hawkeye looked up at Donald just in time to see him reaching for something on his belt.

"Move," Hawkeye shouted loudly, pushing Margaret forward.

"What is your problem?"

"Move!"

Hawkeye pushed Margaret into a doorway just as a she heard a gunshot. Margaret pushed past Hawkeye and looked back up at the window. When she didn't see Donald there she panicked.

"He's coming down here."

"Well, Margaret I believe it is now time for us to run."

Margaret smiled, for some reason not feeling as frightened as she knew she should. Hawkeye began to lead her down the street but she pulled back suddenly.

"Wait a minute," she called as she ran back to the fire escape.

"What are you doing?" Hawkeye called angrily as Margaret dropped to her knees about twenty feet to the right of the escape. "He's coming down here, he's not very happy, and he has a gun. I would prefer to be gone when he gets here."

"I need to find my ring!" Margaret shouted, frantically clawing at the grass in the dark.

Hawkeye stared at her blankly. "Your husband is about to come down here with a gun, and your looking for your wedding ring?"

"Not his ring, yours! Donald threw it out of the window."

"You still have that?" Hawkeye asked in shock, a small smile on his face.

Margaret glared at him. "If I still had it I wouldn't be looking for it, would I?"

Hawkeye heard someone crash though the front door of the hotel and he quickly dragged Margaret into the bushes.

Margaret covered her face in her hands, but jerked her head up when she felt something wet touch her face. She tentatively brought her hands up to her nose and recognized the all too familiar smell of blood.

"You were hit?" she hissed at Hawkeye, looking around his chest and back, assuming the worst.

"Calm down," he whispered. "The bullet barely hit my shoulder." Margaret moaned slightly and leaned up against the brick wall behind her.

"Is he gone yet?"

Hawkeye attempted to look through the bushes and shrugged. "I can't tell. Wanna make a run for it?"

Margaret crossed her arms stubbornly. "I want to find my ring."

"Jesus Margaret, I'd rather buy you a new ring than be shot by your husband."

"It has to be here somewhere," she insisted, getting back on her knees.

"Hang on a sec." Hawkeye stood up tentatively and when he didn't see Donald he grabbed one of the tall bushes firmly and shook it, hoping to shake the ring loose.

"I still don't see it."

Hawkeye moved on to the next bush and took a firm hold on one of the branches.

"You there!" a soldier shouted. "What are you doing?"

Margaret stayed where she was and peered through the bushes, spotting a Colonel approaching them.

"I was uh, just practicing." Hawkeye said coolly.

Margaret found herself smiling at Hawkeye's odd explanation.

"You see, I'm meeting with a General tomorrow and I wanted to practice shaking hands, but no one was around to help me."

"I should say not; it's almost 0100 hours. Who are you?"

"Captain Pierce, I work at a MASH unit near the front." Hawkeye moved away from the bushes and extended his hand. "Maybe you could help me, sir." The old man tentatively shook Hawkeye's hand, looking at him like he belonged in an asylum.

"You shake hands nicely, Hawkeye commented, trying to keep himself from laughing. "A good firm grip."

"Yes, well get to bed Captain," the man said gruffly as he hurriedly walked into to hotel room.

"Are you crazy?" Margaret hissed, standing up once the man was inside. Hawkeye rolled his eyes and firmly shook the next bush in line.

"That man was a colonel! Why did you lie to him? What would you have said if he asked what you were seeing the general about?"

"Margaret, calm down." Hawkeye pointed to the ground behind her. "There's your ring." Margaret pounced on the piece of jewelry and Hawkeye wearily grabbed her hand and began guiding her through the somewhat busy streets.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked quietly, every thread of willpower completely gone.

"There's a small hotel down the road a bit where I'm sure lover boy won't think of looking for you."

Margaret stiffened and scooted closer to Hawkeye. "Look for me? You think he's looking for me?" Margaret glanced nervously over her shoulder.

"He's not following us," he said with certainty. "I've been watching."

"I'm scared," Margaret admitted firmly.

Hawkeye looked at her oddly and chuckled. "You certainly don't look scared. I swear Margaret, if you would just be more honest with people you…" he cut himself off and sighed. "Don't worry," he said reassuringly. "I'll get you to a hotel and then back home safe and sound." He smiled at her and Margaret looked to the ground, certain that she wouldn't feel safe in a hotel room with Hawkeye.


	15. Too Close For Comfort

"What now?" Margaret sat down stiffly on the side of a small bed. Hawkeye had found a small hotel, off the busy streets and a few miles from where Donald could be looking. The room was cramped and dirty, the wallpaper was yellowed from age and the bedding looked as if it hadn't been washed in months.

"You try and go to sleep and tomorrow we run home with our tails between our legs." Hawkeye sat down in what resembled an arm chair and closed his eyes. Margaret stared at him a moment, wondering if he was going to say or do anything more. The silence in the room was stifling and Margaret could feel her stomach twisting at the tension.

"Well goodnight then," she croaked. She stood up and pulled back the sheets in disgust, recoiling at the tan colored sheets that were so obviously at one time a pure white. After a moment of debating whether or not to crawl into the bed, Margaret pulled the blanket back and laid on top of it, turning out the small light as she did so.

Without any pillows, Margaret's head tilted backwards in an uncomfortable position, her right leg falling asleep because of the pressure from the rock hard bed. She wasn't sure when she fell asleep, but she woke up suddenly with her heart pounding.

_"What woke me? Was it a dream? I don't remember any dream." _

She sat up slowly, looking about the room as her eyes adjusted to the dark. There was a brilliant flash of light outside her window, followed by a loud crash. She shuddered, realizing that it was a thunderstorm that had woken her.

"We have to leave early tomorrow," Hawkeye's voice startled her and she looked over to the chair and didn't see him. "I'm over here." She turned her head to the right and noticed his body silhouetted against the window. "Go to sleep." His voice was firm and demanding and Margaret frowned.

"Have you been awake this entire time?"

"It hasn't been long."

She sighed and pulled her knees to her chest, letting her back rest against the wall. With another clap of thunder her head dropped onto her knees and she wrapped her arms tightly around her legs. "Why are you acting like that?" she asked angrily, her voice muffled because of her position. Hawkeye only glared at her for a moment before returning his attention to the window.

"Come on Hawkeye, don't be mad at me. I'm sorry I screwed up your night but…"

"What more do you want?" he shouted angrily. "It's fine Margaret. I don't care, okay? Are you happy now? Now go to sleep!"

"Can't we just go back to…?" Margaret cut herself off and sighed.

"Go back to the way things were?" Hawkeye finished for her. "No Margaret we can't."

"Why not?" Margaret crossed her arms defiantly and raised her brows questioningly.

"Because you're married!" Hawkeye walked over to her, glaring down into her face. "You're married and for the life of me I can't convince myself to stop loving you!" Margaret gasped softly and Hawkeye closed his eyes when he realized what he had just said. He had desperately hoped that Margaret would keep their former relationship in the past, but he had just ruined that chance.

He heard her crawl off the bed and walk towards him and he felt her hand rest lightly on his arm. "Don't do that," he snapped, backing away from her.

Margaret laughed cynically. "Do what; touch you?"

"Margaret right now it's taking every ounce of my self control to keep from dipping you in the longest and most passionate kiss you've ever had. It would help considerably if you stayed on your side of the room and stopped touching me!"

Margaret leaned up against the wall and the slid to the floor, laughing softly.

"What's so funny?" he asked angrily.

"What's wrong, Hawkeye? Where did all your jokes go? I don't think I've heard one wisecrack all night." Her voice was broken and gruff and Hawkeye realized there were tears streaming down her face.

"Don't you see the irony of it all?" she continued, still laughing. "Here we are, alone in a hotel room, we've both admitted that we're still in love and yet you can't bring yourself to touch me."

Hawkeye sat down, leaning on the opposite wall and sighed. "You're married Margaret."

"I'm married to a complete jackass! Can you still possibly think that I'm staying with him? I'm divorcing him the minute I get back to the 4077th."

"Not all men are as easy to divorce as I was," he replied softly. Margaret's laughter stopped abruptly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, her voice shaking with furry.

"Oh calm down Margaret, I didn't mean it as a cut. It's just that maybe Donald won't want a divorce."

Even in the dark room, Hawkeye could see Margaret's frightened expression. "What do you mean?" she asked sharply.

"Margaret," Hawkeye was doing his best not to frighten her any more. He knew she had been through hell. "Donald seems as if he wants your marriage to last because of convenience. You can take him to court about it, but it's going to take a long time and god-forbid, but you might feel obliged to stay married just because…" Hawkeye stopped himself and tried to take a different approach. "Well if he finds out that anything happened between us…" Hawkeye trailed off as Margaret gasped.

All at once she understood what Hawkeye was thinking. He didn't want her hurt. He didn't want to give Donald one more excuse to hit her. A small cry slipped from her lips and she buried her head in her knees. "Oh my god, what's going to happen to me?"


	16. Suprising News

The sun hit her eyes and Margaret groaned, squinting in the bright morning light. She shielded her eyes and looked around the small room. She was still sitting on the floor; Hawkeye was nowhere to be seen. Margaret felt her heart beating faster and she jumped to her feet.

"Hawkeye?" she asked shakily. She pulled his robe closer to her body and sat down on the bed. There was a knock on the door and Margaret bit her lip to keep from screaming.

"Major Houlihan?" a voice called. Margaret sighed from relief when she realized it wasn't Donald. Margaret walked to the door and opened it slightly.

"What is it?" She asked warily, eyeing the two privates standing in front of her.

"We have a Captain Pierce waiting for you down at the base. He asked us to come and escort you." Margaret nodded, trying to keep her dignity as she stepped into the hallway in the tattered bathrobe.

"Major, he insisted we bring a new dress uniform for you." Margaret's face dissolved into a smile as she grabbed for the bag in the private's hand.

"I'll be out in just a moment," she said firmly. Margaret slipped on the brown skirt, wishing desperately that she had some sort of undergarments. As she finished dressing she slipped on a pair of brown heels she found in the bottom of the bag.

"God, I look homeless," she muttered quietly, as she looked into a small mirror. She sighed, and reopened the door, knowing there wasn't anything she could do about her appearance.

"Alright, I'm ready." The private's nodded and escorted her to a jeep, waiting in front of the hotel. Margaret stared up at the sky, feeling considerably better. Everything looked less threatening in the daylight, she felt herself relaxing, and by the time they arrived at the military base, her scattered thoughts were almost coming to a stop.

"This way, Major." The two men lead her into a large building which had the appearance of being made of cardboard.

"Margaret!" she heard Hawkeye's voice behind her and she turned. Hawkeye was trying to make his way towards her, two soldiers trailing behind him, protesting loudly.

"Hawkeye," she grabbed onto his arm and looked up at him curiously. "What's going on?"

Hawkeye sighed. "I came down here to try and get you a new uniform, they kept asking me who it was for and when I finally told them they wouldn't let me go and insisted on going to get you."

Margaret turned and looked questioningly at the privates beside her. "Why am I here?" she asked sharply. The boys turned red and mumbled a "not sure" and Margaret sighed.

"Very well, take me to your CO but Captain Pierce will be joining me."

Hawkeye smiled to himself, finding it ironic that Margaret's voice insisted that she was completely calm, her words, however, proving just how uncertain and scared she was.

The two private's escorted the officers into a large office. A General sat behind the desk and scowled as he saw Pierce. "I thought I told you to get rid of him," he snapped at the privates.

"I insisted he come," Margaret said sharply.

The general sighed and nodded. "Very well Major, my name is General Berkley. I have been looking for you since last night."

Margaret's demeanor changed instantly as she looked at Berkley in shock. "For me sir?"

"Private Sanders, get Potter back on the phone."

"Yes sir."

At the familiar name, Margaret turned to look at Hawkeye, a puzzled frown across her face. "Potter?"

He shrugged and nodded towards the General who held out the phone receiver to Margaret. "Major, take the phone."

"Colonel?" she said hesitantly.

"Margaret," the old man sighed. "I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"Sir you gave me a pass for…"

"Lieutenant Colonel Penobscott called." He interrupted her. Margaret's felt dizzy and grabbed for a chair, sitting down heavily.

"What did he want?" she almost screamed.

"He was looking for you. Now, Major I gave you that pass because I thought you were trying to work things out…"

"What did he want?" Margaret was almost in tears now and Hawkeye moved towards her protectively.

Potter sighed, he wasn't looking forward to what he was about to tell the woman. "He told me to give you a message."

Margaret choked back a sob and mumbled some sort of incoherent response.

"Donald asked me to inform you that he has some divorce papers he wants you to sign."

Margaret gasped and nearly dropped the phone. "What?" she screeched. Potter winced and repeated the message.

"Now Major, don't get your feathers all ruffled, I'm sure you kids can work this out…" Margaret turned around to look at Hawkeye, a cautious smile on her face.

"He wants a divorce," she informed him in disbelief.

"Major? Who's there with you?" Margaret ignored Potter and dropped the phone onto the desk a nervous laugh erupting from her lips. Hawkeye took a step forward, closing the distance between them.

"Well you were a very bad girl," he teased, wrapping his arm around her waist.

Margaret reached up and pulled his head down to meet hers. "A very bad girl," she mumbled.

Hawkeye smiled, looking directly into her eyes. "Permission to kiss the major?"

Margaret laughed and shook her head in disbelief. "Permission granted."

* * *

Hooray! Everything everyone wanted just happened. Or did it? Now Hawkeye know's he loved Margaret and Margaret loved him... and Margaret knows she loved Hawkeye and he loves her... and now she's basically freee to love him and vice versa... BUT noone but the two of them know that... SOOOOO... you have a chapter or two awaiting you. ) 


	17. Deja Vu

Margaret sighed and shot Hawkeye an angry glance as he began to follow her to the elevator.

"I told you, I'm going by myself!" she insisted firmly. "The second he sees you it's going to make him angry and he's liable to call the whole thing off."

Hawkeye rolled his eyes and continued to make his way towards the elevator. "Oh get a grip, Hot Lips. If the sight of me is enough to change his mind, then he doesn't really want the divorce in the first place."

"That's what I'm afraid of." Her voice was so low Hawkeye barely caught her words. He rolled his eyes despairingly and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Go on up, I'll wait down here." He smiled reassuringly as she stepped into the elevator.

As soon as the doors to the elevator closed Hawkeye's smile faded and he began to pace the lobby of the hotel. He didn't trust Penobscott. Hawkeye knew he wouldn't let Margaret off that easy. He glanced at his watch anxiously and then at the door of the hotel.

He cursed under his breath and stole another glance at his watch. Another fleeting look at the door brought what he was waiting for and he heaved a sigh of relief.

* * *

Margaret stood nervously at the door of the hotel room. She tried to calm her heavy breathing as she rapped firmly on the door. There was no answer and she hesitantly knocked again. The door behind her opened and she turned quickly, surprised to see Donald standing there.

"What are you doing in that room?" she asked coldly. Donald sneered at her and opened the door wider to let her in.

"I hated the noise from the street," he said coolly.

Margaret hesitantly walked inside the room, feeling herself beginning to panic.

_Calm down, Houlihan. Just get him to sign the papers and you're out of here._

"You know I really didn't expect you to get here so fast. I didn't even have time to get dressed." Donald gave a small, lopsided smile and Margaret groaned inwardly. She hadn't even noticed that Donald was only wearing a bathrobe.

"It doesn't matter," she said, in her most professional manner. "All you have to do is sign in three places and initial in one. I hardly think it requires you to be dressed."

Donald sat down on the bed and patted the space beside him, inviting Margaret to sit down. She tossed her head, stubbornly refusing to do so.

Donald's countenance darkened considerably as he folded his arms across his chest. "Exactly what was it that made you think I would sign those papers? You're my wife, Margaret. You belong to me. I'm not going to give you up."

"You said you wanted a divorce." Margaret's voice was weak and shaky, and she could feel her legs begin to shake.

Donald smiled triumphantly, noting the effect his words had on her. "I changed my mind. You're an amazing woman, Margaret, and as sexy as hell. I would be a fool to give you up."

"You'd be a fool to cheat," she muttered under her breath. Donald caught the words and his face twisted into an angry scowl as he stood up.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Margaret felt her nerve building and she raised her chin in the air defiantly and stared back at him. "I think you know."

Donald reached out and grabbed her chin, yanking her head towards him. "Don't you dare play your little games with me, Houlihan."

Margaret shoved him away with her free hand and rubbed her chin gingerly, kicking herself a thousand times over for not bringing Hawkeye. "Just sign the damn papers, Donald."

Donald reached out again and grabbed for her, succeeding in holding both of her wrists firmly. Margaret heard a knock on the door across the hall and she smiled in relief.

"Margaret, it's me. Open the door."

In the small window she had to respond, Donald was watching her with obvious discomfort. If she made one noise, Hawkeye was sure to hear. Margaret was so shocked that Hawkeye had come upstairs that she missed her opportunity to say anything. Donald reached up and clamped his hand firmly over her mouth.

Margaret hit him several times in the chest, desperately trying to break free, as he hustled her towards the bathroom.

* * *

Hawkeye knocked several times on the door, panicking when there was no response. He called for Margaret several times and then finally turned to the general standing beside him.

"I don't know where he took her," he said in a quiet voice.

The general sighed and nodded to one of the enlisted men beside him. "Alright, Johnson, go get the key from the owner."

Hawkeye sighed impatiently. "That'll take forever. Who knows where she'll be by the time you get that door open."

"We need to make sure she's not in here before we go gallivanting off on some wild-goose-chase."

There was a loud crash, and the sound of shattering glass from the room behind them. The group grew deathly quiet, listening for anything else. Hawkeye heard a man grunt and then the sound of the bathroom door being shut and locked.

Hawkeye turned to the general agitatedly. "What more do you need? Open that door!"

"Captain, who's to say that wasn't just a…er, over-excited couple?"

* * *

Just as Donald had gotten her to the bathroom door, Margaret kicked the dresser beside her as hard as she could. The cheap wood splintered and the glass vase sitting on top of the dresser crashed to the floor.

Donald threw her into the bathroom in disgust and followed her in, locking the door behind them.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Margaret hissed. "You can't go anywhere. You don't have any windows in this room."

Donald smiled slightly. "I don't want to go anywhere." He reached over to the shower and turned the water on, the noise blocking out the shouts from the hall.

"That shower works in two ways," he laughed. "We can't hear them, and they won't hear us."

Donald sat down on the floor beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, kissing her neck passionately.

"Get off of me," she spat, embedding her elbow into his side. Donald groaned and his peaceful manner vanished suddenly and he grabbed her shoulders, pushing her onto the cold, tiled floor.

"You're my wife, Margaret. I don't know why you think you can erase that so quickly." He climbed on top of her and kissed her firmly on the mouth.

Margaret grimaced as he pulled away, disgusted with the bitter taste. "Oh you didn't like that?" he asked, laughing at her mockingly. "Well let me try again."

Margaret lifted her knee, kicking him in his most vulnerable place. He rolled off of her and Margaret lunged for the door, screaming out Hawkeye's name at the top of her lungs.

* * *

"There! Did you hear that?" Hawkeye grabbed the general's arm in a panic. "That was her, didn't you hear her yelling?"

The general tilted his head to the side. "I heard something, but how can you be sure it was her?"

"It was her, damn it!"

"You know what happens if we open that door and there's just an innocent couple in that room."

Hawkeye clenched his fists tightly, trying to control his anger. "Do you know what happens if we don't open that door and it is Margaret in there?"

* * *

Donald grabbed her back and shut the door once again. He pulled up her skirt and smiled devilishly. "No undergarments? How very modern of you."

Margaret pulled her knees up to her chest, doing her best to roll into a ball.

"Nice try, Houlihan," Donald said sarcastically as he pulled her back where she was. "You know what comes next, don't you?" he whispered softly.

A small groan slipped through Margaret's lips as she tried to fight away her fears, she couldn't believe it was happening all over again.

* * *

As soon as one of the soldiers had broken through the door, they rushed in, heading for the bathroom door.

One of the men rapped on the door loudly. "Military police open up."

There was no answer and they proceeded to break through the cheap door. The wood around the handle splintered and broke, revealing Donald hurriedly straightening his clothes. Hawkeye caught a glimpse of Margaret on the floor. She was lying on her stomach motionless.

The general moved forward and grabbed Donald by the arm. "You're a pathetic excuse for a soldier," he muttered under his breath as the placed his wrists in handcuffs.

Hawkeye pushed through the small crown and knelt down beside, Margaret. He hesitantly touched her shoulder, scared to death that Donald had killed her. He felt her shoulder shaking slightly and he sighed in relief. He noticed the crumpled papers in her clenched fist and Hawkeye began to feel his blood boil. He grabbed the papers out of her hand and hurried out the hall.

"General, wait a minute," the general stepped out of the elevator with Penobscott and Hawkeye held up the papers.

"What are those?" the general asked warily.

"Divorce papers; that's why Major Houlihan was here."

The general rolled his eyes, disgusted at Penobscott's conduct. "I think it would be in your best interest to sign those," he growled.

Donald shot Hawkeye a hateful glance and raised his hands to be uncuffed. "I think you can manage to sign with those on," the general sneered.

As soon as Donald had signed the papers Hawkeye began to walk back to the room.

"It will never last," Donald called after him. "She'll get bored with you and leave, just like she did with the dozens of men before you."

Hawkeye shook his head jadedly and continued on his way.


	18. Mind Over Matter

Hey all, I'm sorry I've been so horribly rotten with updating and replying to your reviews. I finally got my own computer back so I should start doing better. Thank you so much for putting up with me! I hope you enjoy the chapter...there's only one more...i think...maybe two...I'm so indecisive... and I promise I'll have the third and final story up soon...enjoy!

MajorBaby

* * *

"Margaret," Hawkeye kept his voice at a whisper as he walked into the bathroom and sat beside her once again. "Come on, babe, sit up." Hawkeye laid his hand on her back and began to rub it comfortingly.

"Why me?" her voice was barley audible and Hawkeye was obliged to lie down beside her to catch her words. "Why does it always have to happen to me?"

Hawkeye knew the reason, but he felt it was a highly inappropriate time to discuss her taste in men. "Come on, Margaret, sit up."

Margaret struggled to her feet, avoiding eye contact with Hawkeye, who gently slid his arm around her waist and led her into the next room.

"Not here," she said suddenly as Hawkeye tried to get her to lie down.

"Alright let's go into my room." Hawkeye slowly led her down the hall and opened his door; the wood around the lock still splintered from the previous night.

As Margaret sat down on the bed, Hawkeye knelt in front of her so he could look into her eyes. Margaret looked away, he silence torturing Hawkeye.

"Come on, Margaret, talk to me. You're stronger than this."

Margaret's blank expression faded into one of anger and she straightened her back. "A soldier's daughter never cries," she mumbled bitterly.

"What?"

"Is that what you're saying? Damn you, Pierce! I thought you were different. I thought you would always let me be myself, but I can see that I was wrong." Margaret stood up and began to run her fingers through her hair frantically as she headed for the door.

"Margaret what are you talking about?" He grabbed her arm in a panic, desperate for her not to leave.

As soon as Hawkeye's fingers contacted her smooth skin Margaret screamed and crumpled to the floor in a flood of tears. Hawkeye closed his eyes in relief, grateful that she finally let her emotions out.

"Come here baby," he whispered, sitting down beside her and pulling her head onto his lap.

"I don't want to smile," she sobbed. "I don't want to tell everyone I'm okay."

Hawkeye moved his hands to her head and began stroking her hair softly, pulling it out of her face. "You don't have to, Margaret."

"Please don't tell anyone what happened," she cried. "My marriage was enough of a nightmare without this."

"I won't," he assured her, wishing there was something he could say to stop her from hurting.

Hawkeye looked into her red, puffy face and smiled slightly. "No one has any right to tell you to hold anything inside," he said firmly. "Not that you would…" he chuckled and squeezed her shoulder. "I'm sorry for what I said, I didn't mean it, and you just scared me, that's all."

"How did I scare you?" Margaret had almost calmed herself down and she was clutching firmly to Hawkeye's hand.

"You weren't crying, you were barely talking… the spirited Margaret Houlihan suddenly disappeared, it scared me that something could do that to you."

"So you would rather have me hysterical?" Margaret shifted her body and looked up at Hawkeye, his face blurred through her tears.

"Any day," he smiled and kissed her forehead tenderly. "Come on, crawl into bed, you'll feel better."

Margaret nodded and Hawkeye helped her up. Before she realized it Hawkeye swept her off her feet and carried her across the room, depositing her on the soft white bed.

"Considerably better accommodations than last night, am I right?"

"Last night…" Margaret sighed and stared up at the ceiling, her eyes seeming to bore a hole right through the plaster. "Last night you told me you loved me." She looked back at his face and Hawkeye smiled.

"Yeah baby, I did. Now go to sleep, we can talk tomorrow."

Margaret sat up and grabbed his hand. "I don't want to talk tomorrow, please stay."

Hawkeye sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at Margaret's hand, playing with her fingers softly. "I wasn't going anywhere. If you think I'm going to let you out of my sight for even one second you're damn wrong."

Margaret smiled and lay back down. "I wouldn't want it any other way." Margaret frowned in frustration. She wanted Hawkeye to hold her, she wanted him to tell her everything was alright, unfortunately she was out of tears and she couldn't think of any other way to get his attention.

Hawkeye saw Margaret frown and he guess what she was wanting, but was too embarrassed to ask for.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, walking around to the other side of the bed.

Margaret frowned and sighed dramatically, not wanting to seem too eager. "I suppose it's alright."

Hawkeye laughed and slid onto the bed. "You remember that you can't lie to me right?" he slipped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her close.

"Let's go home tomorrow," she said quietly. Hawkeye nodded, suddenly feeling very tired. It wasn't even noon yet and the sun was shining brightly.

"I don't want to talk tomorrow," Margaret said suddenly, pushing herself up. "I want to talk now!"

Hawkeye noted the determination in her voice and relented. "Alright, what do you want to talk about?" he asked sarcastically.

"Marry me," Margaret said firmly, stating it as a command rather than a question.

Hawkeye stared at her in shock, trying to understand how she managed to switch tracks so quickly. He had assumed he would at least be able to stall through a few generic questions about his _intentions_.

As he tried to formulate a response Margaret glared at him hatefully. "Asshole," she mumbled firmly as she scooted towards the edge of the bed.

Margaret stared at the wall, trying to focus on the patterns in the wallpaper to avoid acknowledging Hawkeye's nervous breathing behind her.

Something glittered in front of her eyes and Margaret focused on the object Hawkeye was holding; it was her ring.

"I liberated you of this about five minutes ago," he informed her softly. "I wanted to propose but I was going to wait for you to calm down. I thought you needed some space," he sighed and touched her shoulder gently. "And I still do," he added reluctantly.

"Why don't you let me tell you if I need space?" she asked irritably.

Hawkeye chuckled slightly and shook his head in amazement at her stubbornness. "Margaret you've been divorced from a husband that was abusing you, less than fifteen minutes."

"He wasn't abusing me," she interjected defensively. Hawkeye ignored her and continued.

"During those fifteen minutes you've clung to me, cursed at me, and then suddenly asked me to marry you. And need I remind you of what you've been through the past two days? You're upset, Margaret."

"Was I upset two nights ago?" she asked sharply, sitting up once again. "I looked you directly in the eyes and told you that I loved you. Was I upset then? What about when I would lie awake all-night wishing that you were lying next to me? Was I upset then? Or what about…"

Hawkeye cut her off with a sudden burst of laughter.

"What the hell is so funny, Buster?"

"You always did have your own opinion of exactly how things should be done." Hawkeye leaned forwards and kissed her cheek; as he pulled back Margaret began to stammer helplessly.

"If you don't want to marry me you could have just said so," she blurted out. Hawkeye stared at her in utter confusion; he certainly didn't mean the kiss the way she had obviously taken it.

"Margaret, I…"

"Oh don't try and make excuses; I've heard them all anyway," she shouted bitterly.

"Margaret, I love you; you know that." Hawkeye reached over and tried to turn her head back towards him but she started to climb out of the bed.

Hawkeye lunged for her, twisted her roughly and kissed her hard and passionately on the mouth, while pushing her back into the pillows.

"I love you," he stated firmly as he straightened.

Margaret's face turned deathly pale and tears were beginning to form in her eyes. "Please don't do that," she whimpered.

All at once Hawkeye realized why she had changed positions so quickly. Margaret couldn't handle being touched in a romantic way, and she had realized that when he kissed her cheek.

Hawkeye smiled sadly and pulled Margaret close. "I told you that you would need some time," he whispered softly.

"But I want to marry you," she held out obstinately. "I regretted the divorce practically since you signed the papers." She tried to steady her breathing and stop the tears that were starting to spill down her cheeks.

"I can make it work," she insisted.

"I'm sure you can, Margaret, just give it some time."

"No!" Margaret got up on her knees and grabbed at Hawkeye's shirt collar pulling him close so she could kiss him firmly.

When Hawkeye managed to disentangle himself from her grasp he shook his head despairingly. "Margaret, look at how bad you're shaking."

"I'm fine," she insisted. "I told you I can do this!"

"Give me your hand." Hawkeye instructed firmly. Margaret reluctantly held out her arm and watched in despair as it trembled visibly.

"I want to be with you," she cried in frustration.

"Margaret, just wait, let this thing pass. I promise you I'll still be around for you."

"It's not the same," she insisted.

"It will be the same," he assured her. "It'll be just as if we were married except I'll act like a gentleman and keep my hands off you."

"But you'd still be free to go wherever you wanted," she whispered as she lay back down, suddenly feeling exhausted.

Hawkeye smiled patronizingly and lay beside her. He wished she could trust him to stay away from other women. "I guess I'll have to marry you then."

Margaret looked at him strangely, wondering if he was taking her up on her offer to _cope_.

"Don't look so worried. Margaret, my former statement stands. I'll act like a perfect gentleman except, legally, you're all mine."

"You'd do that for me?" Margaret asked, a small smile beginning to play around her mouth.

"In a heartbeat."


	19. Boxing and Ballet

As the jeep barreled through the ruts in the road Hawkeye looked sideways and tried to keep a straight face.

"Oh knock it off!" shouted Margaret, who realized she was the object of his amusement.

"I'm sorry!" he was now laughing openly. "I just can't get over the sight of you with red hair."

Margaret crossed her arms and glared at him furiously. "I like it," she seethed defensively. "I think it looks more natural."

Hawkeye stopped laughing, although he was still grinning from ear to ear. "Oh come on, I didn't mean anything by it. You look lovely but…" he broke off and began chuckling again.

"What?"

"I'm sorry Margaret but if you wanted to make you're hair look more natural you might have gone with brown hair..."

Hawkeye stopped suddenly at the startled expression on Margaret's face. "You don't think it looks natural?" she asked incredulously.

Hawkeye shrugged. "I dunno," he said evasively, trying to tactfully back down.

"Well it should!" she insisted, before inhaling sharply and clamping her mouth shut.

It was more her reaction that clued Hawkeye in rather than what she said. An evil grin spread across his face and he watched her closely out of the corner of his eye.

"What are you smiling at?" she snapped, more than a little on edge.

"A red-head," he smirked. "I should have known."

"What are you talking about? You're crazy Pierce!" Margaret was horrified with herself now and Hawkeye was thoroughly enjoying himself.

"You're hair is naturally red," Hawkeye laughed in amazement. Margaret shook her head furiously as her face turned the same hue as her new (or original) hair color.

"Pull over!" she said suddenly. Hawkeye looked at her curiously.

"Why?"

"Just pull over!"

Hawkeye slammed on the brakes and looked around his surroundings in puzzlement. "We're almost back," he commented blankly. "What's going on?"

Margaret climbed out of the jeep and headed across the road for Rosie's. "We need to get our stories straight, and I could really go for a drink."

Hawkeye climbed out after her in bewilderment. "Well why don't we just get a drink at the officer's club? And what do you mean we need to get our stories straight?"

Hawkeye trotted after Margaret and found her seated at a small table in the corner. "You wouldn't happen to be trying to avoid the inevitable are you?" He asked playfully, sitting across from her.

Margaret looked up thankfully at Rosie who sat a beer in front of her. "You want beer too, Hawkeye?" Hawkeye shook his head in the negative and looked at Margaret expectantly.

"Now what story are we exactly to get straight?"

"We can't tell them we're married." Margaret stated firmly.

"What?" Hawkeye stared at her blankly, trying to figure out what she could have meant by that statement.

"Think about it, Hawkeye." Margaret said icily. "They all hate me; if they suddenly find out that I've married their beloved surgeon they're not going to be too happy."

"Oh come on, Margaret, you're being ridiculous. Nobody hates you!"

"Hawkeye, I'm finally back on speaking terms with BJ. Colonel Potter," She paused and sighed. "The Colonel still looks disappointed every time he looks at me and Radar still can't bring himself to speak to me."

Hawkeye was about to deny it but he suddenly realized that she was right. Ever since their divorce she had been receiving the cold shoulder from just about everyone in the unit and Hawkeye kicked himself for not realizing it sooner.

He sighed deeply and shrugged. "Well we can't just go on acting like nothing is different."

"And why not?" Margaret stared at him defiantly and Hawkeye smiled back. At least she was feeling good enough to argue with him.

"Alright fine. We act like nothing happened. We just waltz into camp three days early, together might I add, and you're divorced. You don't think anyone will talk?"

Margaret frowned and shook her head. "Not as much as if we told them we were married the same day I divorced my second husband."

"We can't just ignore it. They're going to find out eventually."

Margaret nodded a scowl still on her face. "I know it, but let's just wait a while, please?"

Hawkeye relented and nodded. "Fine, but just remember that this was your idea." He stood up and pried the bottle out of Margaret's hand. "Come on, let's go home."

Margaret chuckled cynically at the word _home_ and stood up. "Fine let's go back to the hell hole, you so affectionately call _home_ so that we can be bombarded with bloody soldiers, spend hours elbow deep in blood and shrapnel, and then drink ourselves stupid afterwards, collapse in bed only to be awoken a few minutes later by rats, snakes, bombing…or whatever else decides to ruin our pitiful night's sleep."

Hawkeye sighed deeply, knowing all to well that she was right. "Fine," he said simply, sitting back down. "We have three more days of R&R. Do you want to spend them here, with a bunch of stinking Marines?"

Margaret stayed standing but picked her beer back up and finished it off. "I'm a mess, aren't I?"

Hawkeye grinned. "Oh I don't know, I think you look quite lovely," he joked, knowing full well that Margaret wasn't speaking of her appearance.

Margaret only rolled her eyes and held up her bottle, indicating to Rosie that she needed another. "Fine, let's spend our time with the Marines. It's better than blood."

Hawkeye looked sideways at the group of rowdy men. "I have a feeling there will be plenty of blood if we stick around long enough. I vote we go back."

Margaret scowled at him and rolled her eyes. "Honestly, you're such a coward at times."

"Fine," he retorted quickly. "If you define cowardice as running away at the first sign of danger, screaming and tripping and begging for mercy, then yes, I guess I'm a coward."

Margaret smiled genuinely for the first time in hours. "Alright, let's get our collection of booze and head for the jeep."

"Well actually," he started, before trailing off with a tentative smile.

"What the hell is wrong with the jeep?" Margaret was getting tired of his constant humor and cowardice. She really couldn't figure him out at all.

"There could easily be a sniper, of sudden bombings…"

"Fine!" she cut him off with a sudden screech, drawing the attention of most of the Marines.

"Is he bothering you, Ma'm?" A particularly large and well-built soldier approached them, a scowl on his face.

Margaret shook her head irritably. "No, he's just being himself; a rambling jackass."

"We don't take kindly to your type," the man said, turning towards Hawkeye, his eyes burning with anger.

"Uh Margaret," Hawkeye squeaked. "Far be it from me to ask a favor from a lady, but would you mind….uh…" Hawkeye was cut off by a heavy blow from the soldier sent him reeling to the floor. Hawkeye managed to avoid a second punch by crawling frantically towards the door.

Margaret sighed deeply, still annoyed, and followed him. Hawkeye straightened up and brushed his clothes off, looking at the angry Marine at the entrance to the bar. "Great," he mumbled. "Now we don't even have any booze."

* * *

At almost midnight BJ walked into the swamp after a long session in OR, wanting nothing more than to collapse on his cot. As he walked in her froze; something wasn't right. He surveyed the tent carefully and the turned and marched straight towards Potter's office. 

"Since when do you have a problem with our still?" he complained loudly, crashing through the double doors.

Potter looked up from his paperwork in surprise. "Just calm your caboose, Hunnicutt. I have no idea what you're talking about."

BJ looked at the older man in shock. "You mean you had nothing to do with it?"

"With what?" Sherman stood up in aggravation, his hands still resting on the desk.

"The still's gone!"

As BJ watched an expression of surprise register on Potter's face, Radar banged through the doors.

"Uh, sirs?" Radar interrupted hesitantly. "I think you'd better come see."

The two officer's followed the boy to the supply shed where unusual shrieks and insane laughter could be heard from inside.

There was no mistaking the sound of that laughter. BJ pushed open the door, praying he wouldn't see anything more than necessary. To his relief he saw both Margaret and Hawkeye completely clothed; leaning against a shelf, panting heavily, both seemed completely oblivious of BJ's presence.

"And then he hit me like—like…" Hawkeye seemed to be in the middle of a story and he was desperately trying to make a fist with his hand but failed and began sniggering again. "It was like boxing!" he exclaimed, causing Margaret to dissolve into giggles.

"I think," she began hesitantly, her tone serious. "I think boxing is just like ballet." She nodded her head firmly as if to confirm her statement. "Yup, jesht like bally—bollet—bully—uh, dancing."

Hawkeye frowned and walked towards her slinging his arms around her shoulders. "I'm thorry, I don't think so!"

Margaret pushed him backwards and Hawkeye stumbled into the shelf. "It is too!" she argued like a young child. "It's just that there's no music, no coreog—coreogra…"

"Choreography," Hawkeye interjected as he slid to the floor.

"Ya; and the dancers hit each other!"

"Jeez," BJ muttered as Potter walked in and stood beside him. "They're really bombed." He noticed the still placed on top of a crate in the corner. "They emptied the still."

Potter whistled softly and they moved towards the drunken pair. Margaret slid to the floor just before Potter reached her. "Hawkeye," she mumbled softly. "My head hurts."

BJ held a hand out to his friend and Hawkeye looked up, seeming to notice him for the first time. "Her head hurts 'cause she's drunk." He slurred, keeping his voice at a whisper as if it was a secret.

BJ nodded and pulled Hawkeye to his feet. "Well let's try and get you two sober."

Potter helped Margaret up and she leaned on him sleepily. She opened her eyes long enough to see Hawkeye being helped in the opposite direction. "Where's he going?" she asked.

"BJ's taking him to the swamp, hon." He heard a strange noise from the woman beside him and he turned his head and saw Margaret sobbing openly. He stared at her in alarm, not sure what to do. They were directly in front of her tent so Potter led her inside and sat her down on the cot.

"My ribs hurt," she sobbed. Potter smiled slightly, he had never seen Margaret this drunk before (at least not while he was sober) and her child-like mannerisms were a bit amusing.

"You'll feel better in the morning," he chuckled.

Margaret lay down and Potter noticed a bruise on her arm. He paused and walked back to the cot. "Where do your ribs hurt, honey?"

"Men are scum," she growled, not at Potter in particular. "Not Pierce, though," she amended, looking up at the Colonel. "Not you either, I guess."

Potter smiled patronizingly and bent over, pressing gently against Margaret's rib cage, double-checking to make sure wasn't just overreacting. He was almost done when Margaret shrieked loudly and began to sob all over again.

Potter sighed deeply and shook his head in concern. "What the devil happened to you, Margaret?"

* * *

so suprise, suprise, it looks like Margaret is planning to try and keep their marriage a secret. I wonder how that will turn out... -smirk- anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!  
Major-Baby


	20. Shame

This chapter is long and a bit sad. I just wanted Margaret to try and sort through her emotions a bit. I'm not very good at doing that but it needed to be done. So bear with me through this chapter...

MajorBaby

* * *

Margaret woke up suddenly and peered through the darkness of her tent. She shivered slightly, although it wasn't that cold and she got up to reach for her robe. Her hand caught the familiar tattered fabric and she smiled, pulling it around her tightly. She never had gotten around to giving it back, and although the nurses had noticed Margaret ignored them. She didn't want to give it back and she wouldn't allow herself to be intimidated, no matter how many eyebrows it raised.

Margaret pulled the sleeve to her nose and inhaled the musty scent. The dust and dirt assaulted her nose and she coughed, almost blacking out from the pain in her chest. Margaret worriedly sat down; whishing the throbbing in her head would stop so she could think straight.

"Don't over react," she muttered softly to herself. "You're just sore."

On an impulse she slipped on her shoes and headed for the swamp. There was a light still on even though it was almost two in the morning. Margaret peeked through a small hole in the corner, no bigger than the size of a marble.

Both Hawkeye and Charles were fast asleep but Margaret caught sight of BJ in the corner, a letter in his hands. She smiled sadly knowing how badly he must be missing his wife.

He looked up, seemingly staring straight at her and Margaret willed herself to stay still.

_"He can't see you," _her mind insisted. Still it was hard for her to resist the urge to run back to the safety of her tent. BJ looked back down at his letter and Margaret took a shaky breath in relief. However the layers of dirt coating the side of the tent wasn't exactly welcomed by her nose and Margaret could feel herself about to sneeze.

She backed away from the tent but stumbled over a large rock, landing with a rather loud crash into one of the lawn chairs. Margaret groaned, her entire body aching too badly to move. The door of the swamp opened and BJ stared at her in shock.

"Margaret," he said in disbelief. "What on earth are you doing out here at this time of night?"

Margaret only moaned and tried to sit up, as she did sharp pains shot through her chest and she cried out softly. BJ hurried over to her and knelt beside her, genuine concern etched on his face. "Come on," he said softly. "Let's head over to post-op so I can check you out."

Margaret stumbled to her feet and shook her head furiously. "In the morning," she mumbled, her voice hoarse and scratchy from a lack of sleep.

BJ watched reluctantly as Margaret made her way back to her tent.

* * *

Margaret woke up several times during the night, painfully gasping for air. At five-thirty it had gotten so bad that she finally got up and headed back to the swamp.

"BJ," she hissed softly, standing beside his cot. She poked his shoulder roughly and he shot upwards. He forced his limbs to function as he saw Margaret's pale face and labored breathing. He stood up and grabbed his housecoat before slipping an arm around her shoulders and escorting her to the main building; his grip on her shoulder tightening as they approached, as if he was fearful that she would try to put off an examination again.

Margaret pondered if she might have been wrong about BJ's disdain of her. The way he was so carefully and gently leading her around camp certainly gave her reason to wonder.

BJ grabbed a stethoscope once they reached the x-ray room and instructed Margaret to take off her shirt. Margaret sighed, wondering if BJ would believe the bruises covering her back and sides were a result from her fall only hours before. She took a deep breath and pains racked her chest, encouraging her to do as BJ had bid.

BJ looked at her in shock, wondering how on earth she could have gotten that many bruises from falling over a chair.

"Well you'll certainly be receiving a medal for klutz of the year," he remarked dryly, receiving an icy glare from Margaret.

"Alright," he smiled and approached her. "Let's figure out what's going on." He placed the cold metal end of the stethoscope on her back and Margaret shivered.

"Can you take a deep breath for me?" he asked. Margaret attempted to do as he requested but winced in pain as she tried.

BJ frowned and exhaled loudly.

"Are you trying to show off?" Margaret commented dryly. BJ chuckled and motioned towards the x-ray machine.

"Step right up, m'lady."

* * *

"Colonel," BJ stepped into Potter's office and waited expectantly. "You said you wanted to see me."

Potter nodded and pulled out two glasses and a bottle of scotch from the top drawer of his desk. "Yeah; care for a drink?" he asked as he poured.

BJ smiled and accepted the glass. "I care for it dearly."

After BJ sat down Sherman sighed heavily and tried to decide how to phrase his question. "Honnicutt," he began hesitantly. "Did you find anything—er—suspicious with Major Houlihan's injuries?"

BJ raised his eyebrows in surprise, wondering what had made the Colonel uneasy. "Yeah, I did." He stated firmly. "All Margaret did was trip over a chair. I don't think that could have possibly done enough damage to break two ribs and give her that many bruises."

"Did the bones appear to have been broken within the past two hours?" Potter was inwardly praying that BJ might be wrong, that it was possible her injuries were just a result from her fall.

BJ shook his head slowly. He didn't want to believe it either. He wondered just how much Margaret had been through while in Tokyo. "Her ribs had already started to mend, and the bruises aren't new. From the looks of things I say she was hurt at least 48 hours ago."

Potter cursed loudly. "Have you talked with Pierce yet?"

BJ shook his head. "No, I was about to wake him up."

* * *

BJ walked into the swamp and was relieved to see that Hawkeye was already up, nursing his headache with a mug of hot coffee and aspirin; at least he wouldn't have the difficult job of waking up his friend.

"What happened while you were in Tokyo?" BJ asked bluntly. Hawkeye chuckled dryly and rolled his eyes.

"Good morning to you too."

"Margaret's body is covered with bruises and she has two broken ribs, one of which almost punctured her lung." BJ watched his friend closely for a reaction; it was immediate. A look of terror, missed with pure hatred covered the handsome doctor's face as he jumped to his feet.

"Where is she?" he demanded.

"Sit down, Hawkeye. Colonel Potter wants to know…"

"Where is she, BJ?" Hawkeye interrupted with a loud roar. BJ didn't say a word and Hawkeye hurried to post-op. He frantically scanned he room and then turned and darted across the compound to Margaret's tent.

"Broken ribs?" he shouted as he burst through the door, spotting Margaret lying in her cot, propped up by several pillows. Colonel Potter was standing beside Margaret's cot and she stared back at the two men angrily.

"Get out, both of you." She insisted angrily.

"You told me you were alright, Margaret!" Hawkeye shouted, his blood still boiling with anger.

"If I told you my chest was hurting what the hell could you have done about it?" she hissed.

Hawkeye stared at her, his temper slowly cooling. Potter stood up and placed a hand on Hawkeye's shoulder. "Skedaddle over to my office when you're done here, son." He ordered before leaving the tent. As the door banged shut behind him Hawkeye folded his arms stubbornly.

"I'm going to give you a complete physical." He insisted.

"No," she responded just as firmly.

"Damn it, Margaret!" Hawkeye hissed, dropping his voice to barely above a whisper. "He could have seriously hurt you."

"Don't you think I would know if I was hurt?"

Hawkeye sat down and stared at Margaret intensely. "Not if it's internal."

Margaret shook her head, insistent that she keep some for of dignity. She had felt humiliated and demeaned when BJ had informed her of her broken ribs and shooed her back to her tent for rest.

More than anything she hated the sympathetic looks she knew she was about to begin receiving. "Nobody is supposed to know about what happened," she stated firmly. "Keep it that way. Potter is going to pester you about it for says but don't you dare say a word."

Hawkeye crossed his arms. "Margaret you know damn well you could have been hurt. He raped you, Margaret."

"He did not!" Margaret scream pierced his ears and he stared at Margaret small frame, shaking with anger.

"What?" Hawkeye asked dumbly, trying to understand what she meant. "I thought he…"

"Yeah," Margaret admitted reluctantly. "But it wasn't exactly rape."

Hawkeye tilted his head sideways and tried to keep his mouth from hanging open. "Are you saying you did it willingly?"

"Of course not," she snapped. "All I'm saying is that it wasn't rape." At Hawkeye's blank expression Margaret decided to rephrase her statement. "We were still married, Hawkeye. So technically…"

"No." Hawkeye cut her off and scooted onto the edge of her cot. "No, baby, no. Don't think that for even a minute. What he did was illegal. He forced you into that bathroom and…" he stopped himself and shook his head firmly.

Margaret stared down at her lap and Hawkeye saw a tear roll off her cheek and splash onto her hands. "Hawkeye, he was my husband," she mumbled quietly. "At one point in time I was in love with him, or infatuated at least."

Hawkeye brushed a few tears from her face with the back of his hand and listened quietly. "It was the same with Burns," she continued softly. "As crazy as it seems I was in love with him at one time, even if it was for the wrong reasons."

"Margaret, you know I would never hurt you in a million years," Hawkeye interrupted. Her pain was torturing him.

Margaret looked up and tried to smile as she reached out and grabbed his hand. "I know you wouldn't," she assured him. "It was my fault," she stated simply. "All I ever wanted was a simple life. But there was no way I was going to sit around and wait for someone to marry me. So I became a nurse and joined the army. I thought I would travel and see the world."

Hawkeye shook his head firmly. "Margaret, this was not your fault. Both of those men were unstable and…"

"Of course it's my fault," she insisted. "Look at me, Hawkeye. Hot Lips Houlihan. Every General in the United States Army knows that for a simple promotion he can have a pretty blonde by his side every time he has to come to the front lines." Margaret chuckled dryly and shook her head. "Not to mention a few officers in the Air Force and Navy as well." Margaret's eyes welled up with tears once again and she hung her head to hide them.

"Now look where it got me," she mumbled bitterly. "God, I hate feeling like this!" she screamed before gasping in pain from the exertion.

"Margaret," Hawkeye said suddenly, lifting her chin upwards. "The next time General Clayton comes to visit are you going to sleep with him?"

Margaret's shocked and angered expression gave him his answer. "What about General Hammond? Would you sleep with him?"

"Of course not!" Margaret spat, her eyes beginning to flash angrily. "Why the hell would you think that I…"

"Then top crying about being a slut." An amused look flitted over Hawkeye's face and Margaret felt the corners of her mouth twitching upward.

Hawkeye carefully pulled Margaret into his arms, being careful not to put any pressure on her rib cage. "You're not allowed be a slut around anyone but me now," he teased, and then added with a more serious tone. "And that not for some time yet."

"I love you Margaret Pierce," he whispered kissing the top of her head.

Margaret sighed and leaned into his embrace. "I love you too." She smiled through her reaming tears and looked upward. "But you're not giving me a physical."


	21. Healing

Margaret jumped visibly as Charles touched her shoulder lightly. She glared up at him and he jerked away, almost frightened by her angry glare.

"You're as jumpy as a jack rabbit, Major," colonel Potter commented casually. Potter, BJ, Hawkeye and Margaret were seated around a small table in the officer's club.

Margaret ignored the Colonel's observation and looked down at the cards at her hand. "Will you hurry up?" she demanded of BJ. The man sighed and threw down his cards.

"I'm out."

Margaret smiled satisfactorily, but her triumph was short lived. "Are you alright, Margaret?" Charles anxious voice reached her ears. She looked over at him, slightly surprised that he was concerned, but still annoyed by the intrusion.

"For god's sake, people! I'm not two!" She turned her attention to Hawkeye. "I'll take one."

Hawkeye dealt her one card and gave her an encouraging smile. She had just received a telegram that afternoon informing her that Penobscott had been dishonorably discharged and sent to a prison in the states for two years.

Margaret had been on the edge of her seat ever since they had returned from Tokyo, three weeks before. Now that she knew it was all over she wasn't sure weather to laugh or cry. She hated emotions and her jumbled thoughts had thrown her into a foul mood and the rest of the unit was suffering from it.

Leah Thompson entered the room, a worried expression on her face. "Major Houlhan," she called hesitantly.

Margaret looked up in irritation. "What is it?" she asked sharply.

"We can't find the penicillin. I thought maybe you would know…"

"Did you look in the supply tent?" Margaret interrupted sharply.

"Yes, ma'm." Leah was now looking a bit pale; it was obvious to everyone in the room that the poor girl whished she could be elsewhere.

"What about the lab?"

A shocked expression came across the young woman's face. "The lab?" she repeated tentatively.

"Yes, the lab. This is a hospital, Lieutenant. You can't expect the doctors not to use medicine." Margaret was tired of feeling confused and she knew exactly how incompetence made her feel. She was prepared to use this situation to her full advantage. "Next time look around before you come crying to me about now being able to find something!"

Leah nodded and hurriedly began to back out of the building. Margaret happened to glance at Hawkeye who was frowning, his expression a mixture of disapproval and disappointment.

Margaret suddenly felt like a small girl being reprimanded She cleared her throat nervously and stood up. "Leah," she called out.

The woman turned around, dread covering her face. "I apologize," Margaret said unexpectedly, bringing a few startled looks from the group at the table. "That was uncalled for."

Leah smiled and nodded, before walking back to post-op.

* * *

Hawkeye opened the door to Margaret's tent quickly after making certain no one was watching. "Hey," he greeted softly.

Margaret turned and tilted her head to one side. "You made me feel like a complete idiot." She stated, crossing her arms.

Hawkeye walked over to her and kissed her forehead. "Well you made Thompson feel like a complete idiot. It wasn't her fault someone left the penicillin in the lab."

Margaret smiled somewhat sheepishly in resignation. "I suppose I deserved it."

"Goodnight, Margaret." Hawkeye squeezed her hand before heading for the door.

"Hawkeye," Margaret hesitated as Hawkeye held the door open slightly. It was early spring and a cool breeze drifted inside, causing her to shiver slightly. She wanted to run to him and pull him back inside, begging him not to leave.

She sighed and shook her head. "Goodnight."

Hawkeye closed the door and walked back to her, resting his hands on her shoulders. "It won't be like this forever, Margaret."

The sincerity in his voice brought a smile to Margaret's face and she suddenly felt herself laughing cynically.

"Ironic, isn't it?" she asked. "Hot Lips Houlihan cut down to size; scared to kiss even her husband."

Hawkeye was about to say something but Margaret cut him off. "Stop it, Hawkeye. This isn't you. You've been very sweet the past three weeks but I can't take it anymore!"

She smiled at his worried face. "Tease me," she urged. "Make fun of me, I don't care. Just what ever you do stop protecting me!"

Hawkeye smiled and nodded. "That can be arranged, baby."

"And don't call me _baby_!" Margaret folded her arms, shaking her red curls out of her eyes defiantly. "I'm not a child, I don't need protecting. I can take care of myself. I love you and I want you with me, but I want you beside me, not in front of me and certainly not carrying me!"

Hawkeye bowed his head in submission and grinned, a mischievous glint jumping into his eyes. "Sure thing, baby."

Anger flashed across her face and she pulled her shoulders back, raising herself up to her full height of 5'4". Then suddenly she recognized the glint in his eyes and she erupted in laughter.

"Fine," she mumbled. "Have it your way; just get out of my tent!"

* * *

Margaret made her way into the mess tent on a beautiful summer morning. It had been almost two months since her "R&R" in Tokyo. Hawkeye was laughing with BJ and Potter, even Charles was having trouble keeping himself from laughing.

Margaret chuckled, finding it amusing that Hawkeye could always manage to put everyone in a good mood.

"Hey Hot Lips!" Hawkeye called as she walked in. "Come join our insanity."

Margaret grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down beside Hawkeye.

"Not a very nutritious breakfast," Colonel Potter commented. Margaret smiled and shrugged. "I just figured it was better than powdered eggs."

"Touché," he smiled at her and Margaret was about to smile back when she felt Hawkeye's hand resting lightly on her knee. She felt an unexpected shiver race up her spine and she turned to him, staring intently.

"What?" he asked suspiciously. When she didn't say anything he turned his attention back to the group.

Margaret found herself completely absorbed as she watched him talking. She noticed the way his dark hair fell messily into his eyes and she had to resist the urge to reach up and brush it away. Much to her surprise she found herself wishing she could lean over and tackle him to the floor, giving him the best kiss he would of his life.

She gasped as she realized what she was thinking. "What's wrong?" BJ asked, looking t her strangely.

Margaret jumped up from the table and pointed at Hawkeye accusingly. "It was you wasn't it?" she demanded. He looked at her blankly.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh nice try, Pierce!" she seethed, her body beginning to shake with furry. "How could you do anything so stupid?"

"Now Major," Potter began softly. "Why don't you give him a chance to…?"

"No!" she shrieked. "No more chances! That is it Pierce!"

"Margaret," Hawkeye began hesitantly. "What…"

"Oh go to hell!" with that final outburst Margaret stormed from the tent, her heart racing. Once she reached her tent she quickly stripped out of her uniform, slipping, in it's place, a flimsy slip. She frantically ran a brush through her hair as she heard a soft knock on the door.

"Margaret," Hawkeye's voice floated inside. "Listen, baby," he dropped his voice to a whisper. "I don't know what I did, but please let me in. Let's talk."

Margaret walked to the door and leaned up against the canvas to the right. "Come in," she said flatly.

Hawkeye opened the door and walked inside. The second he spotted her his mouth dropped open a bit. Margaret smiled slightly, took two quick steps towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I love you," she whispered, looking into his eyes before standing on her tip-toes and kissing him fiercely.

Hawkeye pushed her back, searching her face carefully. "Margaret, are you sure you…"

"Yes," she responded firmly, trying to pull him closer.

"Don't you want to know what I was going to say?"

Margaret shook her head. "I know what you were about to ask. My answer is yes."

Hawkeye sighed, a playful look coming into his eyes. "Alright, I'll see you tonight." He was about to walk outside when Margaret called to him.

"Alright jackass," she said, pulling on his arm. "What was your question?"

"I was going to ask you if you wanted me to leave." A smirk played on his lips and Margaret rolled her eyes.

"Then my answer is no." Hawkeye studied her face, looking for any sign of doubt or hesitance. Seeing none he grinned and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I love you too, Mrs. Pierce."


	22. Renewed Friendship

celebration dance The document manager is working! Yahoooo! lol. I hope everyone enjoys the chapter...it was written almost a week ago cough cough Only three more chapter... get ready for the crazy (normally so) finale!

* * *

"Just Molly and me, and baby makes three. We're happy in my blue heaven…"

"Good morning, Major." Kelly walked into the shower tent hesitantly, shocked at hearing Margaret singing.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," she smiled brightly and Kellye slowly smiled back.

"Beautiful morning, isn't it?" Margaret asked sociably. Kellye stared back at the nurse in shock. The last time Margaret had even attempted to make small talk was months ago while she and Captain Pierce were still married.

"Uh-huh." Kellye slipped into the shower, somewhat suspicious of the major's over-friendliness.

Margaret sighed deeply, her smile fading. "Well this isn't going to work." She mumbled. "Kellye, do you remember when I moved in with you and the other nurses right after—uh-- Major Burns was sent home?"

Kellye nodded as she turned on the water.

"I miss that," Margaret said bluntly, turning towards the younger girl. "I know it's my own fault that everybody hates me, but I—I was wondering if there was anyway…"

Margaret trailed off and shrugged. She wanted desperately to make amends. She was lonely. And maybe, just maybe if she could get back into people's good graces maybe she could eventually tell them about her marriage.

The ever-forgiving Kellye smiled sweetly and nodded. "You want to join us for a game of poker tonight?"

"Do you thing anyone would mind?" Margaret cried hopefully.

Kellye shrugged, "You can never tell," the dismayed look on Margaret's face brought her to change her words.

"I—I mean I'm sure they'll be fine with it just as soon as they realize that you're not going to…" she trailed off and sighed, realizing there was no easy way to say what she needed to say.

"You mean when they're sure I'm not going to turn back into dragon lady." She said bitterly.

Margaret finished rinsing the soap off her skin and sighed as Kellye tired to muster up some sort of apology. "Its fine, Kellye," she said softly. "She grabbed a towel and quickly dried off before slipping on her bathrobe.

"I'll see you later," she mumbled as she stepped out into the blistering, summer sun. She made it into her tent as screamed as Hawkeye grabbed her from behind.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, brushing his hands off. He only laughed and pulled her close again.

"Colonel Potter just let me in on a little secret," he informed her happily, a definite twinkle in his eye. "Next week, for the Fourth of July, we're getting out of this dump!"

Margaret gasped in excitement and threw her arms around his neck. "We're going home?" she cried hopefully.

Hawkeye pushed her back and smiled slightly as he shook his head. "No, I'm afraid they won't let us go quite that far."

Margaret frowned in disappointment and crossed her arms. "Then what are you talking about?"

"We're going to Incheon, well nearby anyway." His smile had returned as he watched Margaret expectantly for some form of excitement.

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"A beach party, Margaret!" he yelled. "It'll be like the lobster festival we had just a thousand times better!" His grin widened across his face. "It will be rather convenient too, the fourth just happens to be our six-month anniversary."

Margaret smiled as the news began to sink in, it certainly was a downfall from going home but the more she thought about it the more excited she became. "A real beach?" she asked hesitantly, unsure if she could believe him."

"Sand, rocks, water…beach!"

Margaret laughed and Hawkeye wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. "Now how about giving me a little celebration kiss?"

Margaret rolled her eyes and tried to push him away but the smell of old spice was beginning to distract her. "Get off me," she mumbled.

"Ah, she can't resist me," Hawkeye grinned triumphantly and leaned down, planting a firm kiss on his wife's lips, which Margaret returned with intense passion.

"Alright," Margaret pulled back in annoyance. "That's enough."

Hawkeye relented and headed for the door. "It's never enough." He countered a large grin on his face.

"What time does your shift end, tonight?" she asked as he was halfway out the door.

"Why?" he asked, knowing full well why but loving the angered expression that popped onto her face.

"I just thought you'd like to see me in the new nightgown I bought," she said flippantly, pulling a flimsy piece of silk out of her locker and throwing it at him.

Hawkeye held up the gown and whistled, affecting a stern look. "Madame, this is highly indecent." A smiled spread across his face and he shrugged. "I'll be here at eleven."

He tossed the bit of material back at her and Margaret smiled happily as he jogged across the compound.

* * *

There was a nock on her door and Margaret looked over at the clock. It was only eight o'clock. Hawkeye wasn't supposed to be off for another three hours.

"Come in," she called as she straightened her hair.

Kellye walked hesitantly into the room, carrying a small card table. "Care for a game, Major?" she asked shyly.

Margaret was about to shake her head in the negative, she didn't want anyone's pity. But she noticed someone standing behind Kellye.

"Who's with you?" she asked suspiciously. Kellye opened the door wider and Sarah Baker peeked inside.

"It's just me," she waved and offered a smile. "Leah and Kara will be here in a few minutes." She shrugged. "So long as you feel like playing."

"Come on in," Margaret invited warily, still unsure how she should act. As Kellye began to set up the table Margaret heaved a heavy sigh.

"Why are you here?" she asked bluntly, tired of skipping around the subject.

Sarah smiled affectionately and pulled Margaret onto her cot. "You're a woman, Margaret. You're no different from any one of us. Yes you have a higher rank and that gives you the right to tell us what to do, but feelings don't disappear with rank."

"So you feel sorry for me?" Margaret asked stiffly.

"You really are impossible!" Kelly piped in hotly. "We used to have fun, do you remember that? You didn't have a problem with laughing with us or playing jokes on the doctors. Why did you change so much?"

For a split second Margaret debated whether or not to tell them about what had occurred between her and Hawkeye but she decided to leave out those details. "I have a bad habit of ignoring all feelings when something goes terribly wrong. It makes things easier."

Sarah realized that she was referring to her marriage to Donald and she put a gentle hand on the Major's knee. "But it has to be hard when you push all your friends away."

Leah and Kara walked inside and everyone exchanged glances hesitantly. Margaret sighed impatiently and stood up. "Just about everyone in this camp hates me for leaving Captain Pierce. I'm tired of not having any friends but do you honestly believe you can ignore what I did?"

"It's in the past," Leah spoke up quietly. "Let's leave it there."

"Alright," Margaret said, fighting to keep her "major" tone of voice in check. "Then let's play poker."

* * *

Hawkeye slipped into the tent, it was a little past midnight and he peered through the darkness. "Are you still awake?" he whispered.

"How could I fall asleep knowing that my own husband stood me up?" she teased.

Hawkeye groped through the darkness until he bumped into the low cot.

"I saw the nurses in here earlier," he commented as he sat down.

"They wanted to play poker." She replied curtly.

"Does that mean all is well?" he pressed.

"To quote Leah, 'Let's leave it in the past.'" Margaret sighed, a bit annoyed with the situation but willing to accept it over nothing.

Hawkeye grinned in the darkness and decided to change the subject. "Is it too late for you to model for me?"

"Yes." Margaret responded firmly. Hawkeye sighed in over-exaggerated disappointment.

"It's much too late for that," she continued. "That's why I was forced to take it off."

Hawkeye grinned and slipped his hands underneath the thin blanket and to his delight discovered that she had indeed taken off the silky garment.

"It's a bit chilly tonight, Miss Margaret." He kissed her neck gently and slid his hands down her back leaving trails of goose bumps behind. "Shall I warm you up?"

Margaret smiled and kissed him in return. "So long as you promise to be out of here by five o'clock."

Hawkeye groaned but another kiss from Margaret changed his outlook. "Fine, but only if you promise not to cook for me…EVER."

"I don't think you have to worry," she promised. "I have no idea how you like your eggs in the morning." She quoted the popular song.

Hawkeye grinned again. "Let's keep in that way," he teased; and another kiss brought their conversation to a close.


	23. Tangled Web

Margaret walked hesitantly towards Charles and handed him a small vial.

"What's this?" he asked in surprise.

"A blood sample," she stated simply. "I need you to do me a favor."

"Whose blood sample?" Charles insisted. His voice was harsh and unrelenting, but he really just wanted to make sure that Margaret wasn't hiding any physical ailment from them.

"Sarah Baker's." she divulged grudgingly. "I need you to do a test, but please promise me you won't mention it to anyone. She made me promise."

Charles sighed and looked into Margaret's pleading gaze and slowly nodded.

* * *

Margaret sat near the back of the bus trying to keep from falling asleep as they pulled over to pick up a few soldiers and refugees. She was tired, sunburned, she had sand stuck to her scalp, and she had noticed with some curiosity that Charles was continually trying to pull her into conversation.

"Charles, really," she moaned. "All I want to do right now is sleep."

He stopped abruptly and she looked over at him in surprise, she hadn't expected him to give up so easily. Charles, with a frightened expression on his face, was staring at the one of the soldiers, who had just finished saying something to the driver. The lights went out and Margaret turned to Charles curiously.

"What's going on?"

He hushed her and leaned forwards. "Korean soldiers," he whispered quietly. Margaret felt her throat constrict and she tried to catch her breath. Charles noticed this and slid his right arm around her shoulders in an unexpected gesture of comfort.

A baby began crying behind her and Margaret closed her eyes, wishing it was all over.

"Will you keep that thing quiet?" she heard Hawkeye hiss. She looked back at the panicked mother and she started to stand thinking maybe she could help quiet the child.

She climbed over Charles, keeping her eyes on the baby. She tripped over something in the aisle and as she struggled to get up the baby stopped crying. She breathed a sigh of relief and turned to go back to her seat. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of the mother's face in the moonlight. It was an expression of pure anguish. All at once she realized what had happened.

She felt her knees buckle and Charles reached out and pulled her back into his arms, pulling her face into his chest to keep her from making a sound as they all waited for the terror to pass.

* * *

Margaret paced behind Colonel Potter as BJ chatted lightly into the receiver. After a moment he passed the phone to the colonel. Margaret missed the entire conversation as she was absorbed thoroughly in her own thoughts.

"…Margaret just won't rest until I let her talk to you." Colonel Potter's voice broke her out of her trance and she glared at him, shaking her head furiously. The old man shoved the phone in her direction and she reluctantly accepted.

"Hawkeye, hello," she greeted in an overly-cheerful voice. "How are you?"

His reply was flippant and bitter and Margaret cringed inwardly. She wanted to break down into tears and beg him to get better and come back. She couldn't take being alone anymore.

"The peace talks are going well," she informed him. "We may be going home soon." There was a grumbled response on the other end and Margaret gave up and handed the phone to Klinger and sullenly walked out of the office.

"Margaret," Charles jogged over to her sighed and she rolled her eyes angrily.

"What do you want, Charles?"

"I received the results of that blood test." His hushed words brought Margaret to a screeching halt. She had completely forgotten about the test with everything that had been going on.

"Well?" she demanded impatiently.

"It tested positive. Lieutenant Baker is pregnant."

Margaret sighed heavily and Charles' expression softened. "I know it has to be difficult," he said consolingly. "She's your friend and she probably doesn't want to—"

"Not a word of this to anyone!" Margaret interrupted harshly.

"But, Margaret—"

"Not a word, Charles! I am in charge of the nurses. I'll see to this on my own." She insisted, putting an emphasis on the last three words.

* * *

"Major Houlihan," Colonel Potter greeted the woman with a smile and motioned for her to sit. BJ and Charles were already seated in front of the large desk.

"I have a favor to ask. The 8063rd needs penicillin. We're running short but they need it bad, they have a group of soldiers that all have nasty infections from sitting out in a field all night.

"Buy why do you need us?" Margaret began impatiently. "Why can't Klinger just—"

"Just hold your horses," Colonel Potter said, raising his hands, indicating silence. "They only have one surgeon, and they're up to their stirrups in wounded. I told them I'd loan them my head nurse and one surgeon until tomorrow."

"I'd be glad to go, Colonel." Charles volunteered unexpectedly. "It would give me a chance to –er, escape the constant clatter that is ringing painfully in my ears."

Margaret folded her arms in aggravation. She found it irritating that the Korean music, that seemed to bring so much comfort to the other prisoners, was mentioned as _constant clatter_.

"Pompously put, Charles," BJ commented in exasperation.

Potter wearily stood up and rubbed his head. "Get packin', kids. You leave in a half hour."

* * *

Margaret squinted in the bright sunlight and yawned. They had been up all night in the OR and now they were headed back to the 4077th for another deluge of bloodied bodies.

"You know I'm curious as to why you haven't done anything about Lieutenant Baker," Charles began slowly. Margaret glared at him.

"Is it any of your business?" she snapped.

"I think it is," he defended himself. "She shouldn't be here."

"The war could end any day, Charles. What is a few more days going to hurt?"

Her voice was so intense that Charles let the matter drop although he still felt as if there was something Margaret was leaving out. He glanced over at her noting scornfully that she was almost completely asleep already.

The jeep began to sputter and Margaret's eyes popped open. "What's going on?" she demanded.

Charles replied with a moan as the jeep began to slow down and then finally pulled to a stop.

"Why did you stop?" Margaret shrieked. There could be enemy soldier---"

"First of all, Margaret," Charles began in his defense. "I did not _stop_. This pitiful excuse for a vehicle stopped all on its own. Secondly, we are at least ten miles from the front lines, so you hardly have anything to worry about."

"Well aren't you going to fix it?" Margaret stubbornly refused to get out of the jeep as Charles grabbed his medical bag and began to walk down the road.

The man laughed and continued walking. "Really, Margaret, do I look like a mechanic?"

In spite of her anger Margaret was forced to smile slightly at the thought of Charles in soiled overalls. She sighed as she realized, once again she would be walking through the Korean countryside.

"Let's hope this trip is less eventful than your last stop at the 8063rd," Charles commended dryly when Margaret had caught up to him.

Margaret only nodded and tried to hide a jaw-splitting yawn. "You look pale," concern crept in on the surgeon's voice.

"I've been up for over forty-eight hours, Charles. Of course I look pale."

Charles accepted her answer with a nod and they fell into silence for almost ten minutes.

Margaret became increasingly tired and her eyelids grew heavier with every step. She wasn't aware of her legs beginning to shake. She didn't even feel it when her knees buckled. The only thing she was aware of was feeling Charles' strong arm reach around her waist to keep her from falling.

"Maybe I'm coming down with something." She admitted in a quiet voice as she regained her footing. Charles reached out a hand to feel her forehead.

"You do feel a bit warm." He looked at their surroundings hesitantly. "Maybe we should rest for a few moments."

"No!" Margaret insisted firmly. "There is no way I am going to be stuck out in this god-forsaken countryside past nightfall. And that's exactly what is going to happen if we don't hurry."

Margaret lifted her chin and began to walk down the road. She only made it a few steps before she crumpled to the ground again. As Charles helped her up she glared at him. "It was just a rut in the road," she insisted stubbornly, refusing to admit defeat. "I tripped."

Without saying a word Charles wrapped his arm around her waist to support her and urged her down the road.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Margaret sleepily asked, suspicion crowding in on her tone.

"Why shouldn't I be?"

Margaret yawned, her voice slurring as she struggled to keep her eyes open. "You shouldn't answer a question with a question but I'll answer you anyway. Because everybody hates me after I dumped Pierce."

Charles shook his head, even though he knew the woman couldn't see it. "I could never hate you, Margaret." His voice barely above a whisper, Margaret didn't even hear the words. She was barely walking, her eyes completely closed.

Charles hesitated a moment, considering the consequences if she woke up. He bent down slightly and placed his other arm behind her knees, picking her up effortlessly.

As he began to walk he kissed her head gently, mumbling into her sweet-smelling hair, "You're magnificent."


	24. Homecoming

Chapter 24... Hawkeye comes back and Margaret is... mad at him? huh, doesn't make much since, but it's how my brain works. I just figure that she wasn't sure how to act, and uncertainty tends to make her angry.

Sorry it's been so long for an update! I had this chapter all typed up ages ago but I was holding out for the emai alerts to be up and running (and for my minimal five reviews. lol) Only one more cahpter after this, folks! Oh, and it's going to be a bit longer than usual, I reallly wanted to keep the story at 25 chpaters. Anywhoo, enjoy!

-Mrs-Tuttle

* * *

Hawkeye sat in the mess tent, staring wearily at his tray of food. He couldn't believe he was back in this hell-hole. The only sliver lining he had seen was being able to be with Margaret again. And now she was missing. Images of the lifeless infant kept floating through his mind, along with pictures of all the innocent children he had operated on, and the ones who hadn't made it that far. 

He wanted to scream and hide. He wished there was someway to shut off the painful images. During the bug-out Hawkeye had found it difficult to even join in on the fun, he was so consumed with thoughts of the war. Sidney had told him that in time the memories would fade, leaving the good memories behind. Hawkeye wondered if that could ever really happen.

He looked up and aimlessly stared out the screened side of the mess tent, and for a split-second he found something to take away the thoughts reeling through his mind. Margaret.

Charles was walking steadily towards the camp, in obvious discomfort, carrying Margaret's unconscious form. Hawkeye jumped up and ran towards the crowd that had begun to rush at Charles.

"She's just sleeping," Hawkeye caught Charles' words and he heaved a sigh of relief. With the assistance of Klinger, BJ picked her up and carried her over to her tent. Hawkeye wanted to follow but he was glued in place.

"Pierce," Charles laid a hand on his shoulder. "It's good to see you back…" he chuckled and shrugged. "…I believe."

"What happened?" Hawkeye asked, trying to keep his eyes off Margaret's tent. "The idiotic jeep broke down," Charles grumbled. "We had to walk the last ten miles or so." He held a hand to his back and headed for the swamp. "Well, at least, _I_ had to walk the last ten miles. My back will never forgive me for it."

Hawkeye watched the man go and suddenly broke out in a full run for Margaret's tent. He crashed through the door, gaining a disapproving look from BJ.

"Is she alright?" he asked, failing miserably at trying to keep his voice calm.

"She's fine," BJ said, standing up from where he was seated beside the cot. "Just sleeping."

"She lost more weight," Hawkeye commented dryly, staring at Margaret's pale face.

"We all have," BJ looked at his friend strangely. "Are you alright, Hawk?"

Hawkeye shook his head in the negative and took two quick steps to Margaret's side and knelt down, tenderly kissing her forehead. He smoothed the blanket away from her face. "I missed you," he whispered so low that BJ missed the words.

He stood up and exited the tent while BJ tried to figure out what had gotten into his friend.

* * *

Margaret opened her eyes tentatively and groaned. Sunshine was beating against the canvas wall making the temperature inside the tent feel above a hundred degrees. She glanced at the clock beside her. It was almost ten o'clock. She tried to remember exactly how or when they had made it home but her mind was a complete blank. 

She stood up and yanked her boots on and the pulled her hair back in a ponytail before heading for the mess tent.

"Good morning, Major." Colonel Potter greeted her as she received a tray of food.

Margaret walked towards him and sat down. "Good morning," she croaked. Since waking up her voice had decided to play hooky.

"Major, you're as hoarse as a crow," he commented playfully.

Margaret only rolled her eyes. "Colonel, do you have any idea of what time we—er got in last night?"

"Around five; Charles came walking into camp, carrying you. You had us worried to death for a moment." Margaret smiled slightly and Potter continued. "Listen, Margaret, a few things happened in the last two days I thought you'd like to know about."

Margaret watched him expectantly as he finished off his coffee. "About fifteen minutes after you left BJ went home." Margaret gasped in shock. He was gone? She couldn't believe it. "A half hour after that Hawkeye came back."

This time Margaret's mouth flew open. "He's back? Is he alright? Is…"

"Hold on, don't get your panties in an uproar. He's around here somewhere; you can see for yourself."

Margaret stood up but Potter reached out and grabbed her arm. "Hold on, Major. Finish off this food." The man's gentle face made Margaret smile and she sat back down.

She took a bit and almost gagged. "Oh god," she moaned. "This is worse than usual."

"We had to bug out yesterday because of a fire." The old man sighed and rubbed a weary hand across his eyes. "As we were playing musical patients, with just two surgeons, Hunnicutt came back, his travel orders were rescinded."

Margaret let out a small cry. "Oh, poor BJ." She breathed. The old man nodded.

"It's been hard for him. But hopefully we'll all be headed home soon."

Margaret stood up once again. "I'm going to see if I can find them," she declared, hoping the Colonel wouldn't notice she hadn't touched her food.

"Don't take too long," he cautioned. "We have wounded coming in fifteen minutes." Margaret nodded and jogged through the compound headed for the swamp.

She knocked on the wooden door frame and entered. All three men were seated on their bunks and Margaret had to do her best to ignore Hawkeye, although she could feel her eyes boring into her side and she was having trouble keeping her palms dry.

"Well there's Sleeping Beauty," BJ greeted.

Margaret smiled and shrugged. "I heard you almost got to go home," she said softly. "I'm so sorry BJ." The man shrugged, he obviously preferred not to think about it.

"Aren't you going to say _hi_ to me, Hot Lips?"

Margaret turned towards the familiar voice and leaned over to hug him. "It's good to have you back," she whispered, unsure of how she should act.

Hawkeye grinned. "It's good to be back. I was going crazy in Tokyo."

Margaret laughed uncomfortably. She couldn't be sure if he was joking or not. "Are you alright?" she asked cautiously.

"Of course not," Hawkeye replied flippantly. "I'm still a raving lunatic but Sidney wanted me here."

"Oh," Margaret wasn't sure how to respond to that.

Hawkeye rolled his eyes. "That was a joke, Margaret. I'm fine."

All of a sudden Margaret felt an unexplained flurry of anger course through her. Whether it was a because of the stress she had been under, constantly worrying about her husband, or just being exhausted; in any case, she snapped.

"Well it wasn't funny, Pierce!" she shouted. "I refuse to tip-toe around you, watching my every word! You're too much like me to even want it! So don't you dare try and act like you want sympathy!"

Hawkeye folded his arms, waiting for her to finish. "And how the hell do you get off pulling the loony card? She continued.

At this point BJ stood up to try and intervene but Margaret was in full rant mode now and she wouldn't let anything interrupt her. "You weren't the only one on that bus!" she screamed, her head pounding as tears welled in her eyes.

"You weren't the only one who saw a mother forced to kill her baby! We all had to watch it! We all had to watch that baby die! What is it? Do you think it was your fault? Get over yourself, you narcissistic asshole! She would have done that whether you were in the bus or not!"

Margaret brought her hands up to her forehead and massaged her temples slowly as large tears began rolling down her cheeks. "We all had to watch," she repeated once more, her voice now barely above a whisper.

Margaret wiped away her tears and placed her hands on her hips waiting to hear an equally wrathful rant from Hawkeye. Instead he kept his arms crossed although he was smiling slightly.

"Are you done, now?" he asked. Margaret nodded curtly and Hawkeye stood up. "Good." He wrapped both arms around her and kissed her firmly on the mouth.

"I missed you too," he told her.

Margaret wanted nothing more than to kiss him back. She knew she shouldn't have blown up at him, but all the stress of the past few weeks were driving her crazy. She was tired of being alone, and wondering if that was the way it would always be. Margaret could feel the two pairs of eyes boring into her back, so she angrily pushed him back. "Don't try that again," she warned, allowing a small smile to break through her angered expression.

Not really feeling like going back to the emptiness of her tent, Margaret sat down on the lawn chair beside Hawkeye's cot. "Care for a sip of poison?" BJ offered, standing up and pouring himself a drink out of a canteen, as the still had been destroyed during the fire.

"I prefer my liver to remain a liver, but thanks anyway."

Charles poured himself a glass of his precious Napoleon Brandy and held it up. "Would you care for a glass of something a bit finer?" he asked.

Margaret smiled eagerly but Hawkeye jumped in front of her, holding out a small cup. "Yes Charles," he cried, "I'd love some."

Winchester rolled his eyes and looked around the Captain at Margaret. "Would you like some, Major?"

Margaret desperately wanted to say yes but she reluctantly shook her head. "No thank you, Charles. We have wounded coming soon."

"A few sips aren't going to do much," BJ said, looking at her curiously.

Hawkeye decided to pipe in, wondering why Margaret was being so elusive. "Besides, I happen to know for a fact that it takes quite bit for you to get tipsy in the slightest."

Margaret shot him a warning glare and shook her head again. "I don't want any, what is your problem?" she accused the three men. Hawkeye was about to protest when they heard the crackling of the PA announcer.

"_Ladies and Gentlemen, five minutes ago at 10:01 this morning, a truce was signed. The hostilities will end twelve hours from now at Ten o'clock. The war is over!"_

Charles was the first to react as he grabbed at a newspaper lying on his cot and threw it in the air, letting out an uncharacteristic whoop of joy. Margaret screamed and jumped up from her seat. She headed towards Hawkeye but Charles intercepted her, picking her up and spinning her around. The four of them ran out into the compound, Margaret's feet hardly touching the ground as BJ, Hawkeye, and Charles all hugged her at once.

It was over, it was finally all over. Margaret looked down the road at an unexpected noise. A bus headed towards them. Her heart sunk and she sighed deeply as she ran towards the busses.

"Does this look like peace to you?" she asked BJ bitterly. The man nodded, knowing how she felt as he ran to the next wounded soldier being carried into pre-op.


	25. Never Let Go

And here it is... THE FINAL CHAPTER! sniff sniff I had a ton of fun writting this sotry and I hope y'all enjoyed reading it! Like I've said beofre, endings aren't my strong points so I apologize a thousand times over if it seems a bit anti-climatic. I haven't stared working on the third installement, I don't even have a title worked out yet, but I do know where I'm taking it and I have notes on a few chapters. BUT I reallly want to wrap up some of my other stories and post a new one that I've been working on for a while. Kind of my pet project. So anyway, if anyone has actually read this note all the way through... Enjot the FINAL chapter!

-Mrs.Tuttle

* * *

At eleven o'clock Margaret sat down on her cot and wearily pulled her scrubs off. She stared blankly in the dark trying to keep from dozing off again. There was a gentle knock on the door and she stood up, pulling on a bathrobe.

"Come in," she said lightly. Hawkeye walked in and Margaret smiled.

"I was wondering when you were going to show up." She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his quickly. "I did miss you, you know," she said firmly, unsure if he was mad at from earlier.

"Forget about it, Margaret."

"You are alright though, aren't you?" she persisted. "I saw the way you looked when you had to operate on that little girl and—"

"I'm fine," he promised once again. "But," he knew he should saw something to her first. "I'm thinking about giving up surgery."

"Oh Hawk," she sighed disappointedly. "Are you sure?"

He shrugged and kissed her again. "What, you don't like the idea of being married to a town doctor?"

"There's nothing wrong with that," she laughed, her eyes beginning to sparkle merrily. "Especially if you have plenty of time to spend with your nurse."

Hawkeye looked at her in confusion. "What happened to your idea of working in a VA hospital? You seemed so excited about that."

"I've been meaning to talk to you about that," she admitted. "I almost came to Tokyo so we could talk but Sidney thought that wouldn't be such a great idea."

"What, me seeing you?" he asked irritably. It aggravated him to find out that Sidney had kept her from him.

"No, he didn't think you would react very well to what I had to tell you. I'm—uh leaving the army." Her voice was quivering slightly and Hawkeye watched her in bewilderment. "Is that all? Why on earth would—"

"That's not all." Margaret chewed her bottom lip, trying to work up enough courage to tell him. "Do you love me?" she asked suddenly, chickening out and changing the subject.

Hawkeye saw the sudden switch but he thought she would tell him soon enough so he let the matter drop. "Let me show you the ways," he grinned and untied the bow in the front of Margaret's bathrobe, slipping his hands inside.

"What do you think, Hot Lips?" he asked between kisses. "Do you think I love you?"

Margaret nodded dumbly and tried pulling him towards her cot. However, she tripped over her boots which had been tossed carelessly in front of her cot. She fell backwards crashing onto the hard floor, pulling Hawkeye down on top of her.

She moaned and tried to push Hawkeye off but he wouldn't budge. "How convenient," he teased.

"You better get off me buster," she hissed, her former romantic mood gone. Hawkeye persisted by kissing her neck gently. Margaret rolled her eyes, trying to prove that he wasn't managing to seduce her. Although she was so distracted by his cologne and the touch of his skin that she didn't even notice that he had stripped her bathrobe off leaving her in just a black bra and silky panties.

"Very pretty," he mumbled, kissing her stomach.

There was a noise outside the door and suddenly light flooded the room as the light was flicked on.

"Oh," Colonel Potter's voice reached her ears and Margaret cringed. "Well, I was wondering where Captain Pierce had gotten to." The older man had turned bright red, and was staring at the ceiling. Obviously not leaving until he said what he had come to say.

Margaret grabbed her bathrobe and pulled on top of her bare skin.

"I needed to tell you two that everyone's gathering in the mess tent, for a sort of good-by dinner. Although," he coughed slightly. "You seem to be having your own goodbye party in here." He grinned and coughed discreetly. "Come if you can."

As the old man walked out Margaret moaned and fell backwards. She heard Hawkeye chuckle and she sat straight up. "You think that was funny?" she demanded.

"The look on your face certainly was." He stood up and helped her to her feet.

"Well come on," he urged.

Margaret rolled her eyes. "You go on; I'll be there in a minute. I have to get dressed first," her voice was bordering on anger and Hawkeye wisely slipped out of the tent.

Margaret pulled on her faded green uniform, knowing it would be the last time she would ever have to wear it. As she headed out into the dark Charles came up behind her and pulled her aside.

"Margaret, I need to talk to you."

She shook her head. "Not now Charles, everyone is…"

"I want you to come to Boston with me," he urged. Margaret stared at him in shock.

"No Charles. I--"

"Please, Margaret, you mean so much to me."

"Charles I think you should know that—"

"I know about the baby," he said suddenly. "I checked the blood type of the sample you gave me. It's A-, Baker's blood type is O+. Your blood type happens to be A-." Margaret flushed and tried to formulate a response but Charles interrupted her thoughts.

"I would love to bring you back to Boston with me," he repeated. "You're an amazing woman Margaret and I would like nothing more than the assurance that I could be with you forever."

"Charles, I…"

"I would always be there for you, Margaret," he insisted. "I know that cretin hurt you but I would always love you," he vowed sincerely. "As well as this child."

"Charles, I'm married." She couldn't believe she had said it. It had slipped out so easily.

Charles face blanched and he backed away slightly as thoughts swirled around in his mind. "Pierce?" he asked hesitantly, almost afraid of the answer. Margaret nodded and the man dejectedly began to walk away.

"Charles, please—"

"No, Margaret. It's perfectly alright. You made your choice." And with that he headed back to the swamp to finish his packing.

Margaret sighed heavily and began to make her way to the gathering. She made it to the mess tent just in time to hear Potter's announcement.

"Tomorrow, the tents of the 4077th will be coming down for good. For an awful long time we've been living together, eating together—"

"Sleeping together," Hawkeye piped in as he found a seat. Margaret smiled to herself, knowing what the Colonel had to be thinking.

"Well I wouldn't know," the old man said with a smile. "I have a horse."

Margaret was dismayed to find that the only seat available was beside the Colonel. Reluctantly she sat down.

"Anyway, since this is our last evening together I've been wondering what your lives will be like when all this is over. I thought it might be a good idea for each one of us to get up and tell everybody what we'll be doing next."

As a ripple of agreements floated through the tent Margaret touched the old man's arm hesitantly. "Why don't you go first, Colonel," she urged.

One by one everyone went around, telling about their career changes or advancements and Margaret struggled to pay attention.

Hawkeye voice drifted to her ears and she jerked back to attention.

"When I graduated from medical school I couldn't wait for the action of a big-city hospital. But now I'm not so sure action is all it's cracked up to be. In fact neither is cracking up. So I think I'm going to take it easy for a while. I don't want just a bunch of anonymous patients to parade through my office. I'd like to maybe—uh talk with them for a few minutes, get to know who they are. So I think for now, I'll be very happy just getting Crabapple Cove to say _ahh_."

Margaret smiled as she saw a spark jump into his eyes; she knew he was about to spout of something smart-alecky.

"And I can't say I've loved you all, either," he continued, a grin creeping across his face. "But I certainly have loved as many of you as I could." He looked to Margaret and gave her a little wink. She smiled even though she could feel Potter staring at her.

Charles walked into the tent and Margaret's mind left the conversation again as she thought about what she could possibly say to the group. Her hand rested against her stomach lightly and she looked down before heaving a large sigh.

"…because we've decided to get married." Klinger's words brought Margaret's head up and she smiled genuinely and reached out to grab his arm. "The only problem is, she won't leave Korea until she finds her family, so…" he sighed and shrugged. "I'm staying in Korea!"

The group burst into laughter and Klinger held up his hands. "Here's how I figure it. If you love someone, you've got nothing but trouble. So you either stop loving them, or love them a whole lot more."

As everyone applauded Margaret looked to Hawkeye and smiled. She knew what she wanted to say now; what she _needed_ to say.

"But the first thing I'm going to do is having a wedding here with my family!" Klinger exclaimed. "We'll do it tomorrow before everyone goes!" The crowd burst into applause and when it died down Charles stood up and cleared his throat ceremoniously.

"I hated this experience," he began with a bitter tone. "I thought I wanted nothing more than to forget everything," he turned towards Margaret and smiled cynically. "And everyone. But once I'm home in my beloved Boston, I hope I can forget the bad times, but remember the wonderful times I've shared with some of you. And I hope we can remain forever as friends."

Margaret smiled at him apologetically as he sat down, and he nodded slightly, accepting her unspoken message.

"You're the only one who hasn't gone, Major." Potter prompted, looking at Margaret expectantly.

Margaret stood up and took a shaky breath. "I have a lot of my father in me," she began. "It's never been his way to tell people how he feels about them. So I guess that's why I never told my nursing staff what I told other people about you. It's been an honor and a privilege to work with you. And I'm very, very proud to call you my friends." She sniffed discreetly as the nurses smiled gratefully and clapped softly.

Margaret took a shaky breath and looked towards Hawkeye and he nodded encouragingly. "I had planned to go back to the states with my husband…"

There were a few scattered gasps but Margaret continued. "I was going to work in a \vertran's hospital in Augusta, Maine."

People began to put the pieces together and heads whipped back and forth and whispers tittered across the room. "But now things have changed a bit." She took one final breath and took the plunge.

"I'm going to be discharged from the army for medical reasons." Hawkeye's mouth dropped open and he looked at her in shock. She had told him she was leaving the army, not that she was being kicked out.

"What are you talking about?" Hawkeye stood up in aggravation.

"I'm pregnant."

A few excited gasps rippled through the room and Colonel Potter stood up and grabbed the woman's shoulders.

"Margaret why…" he stopped himself and Margaret realized he had tears in his eyes. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Margaret turned back to the crown and straightened her shoulders. "After Hawkeye and I were divorced things changed between us," she told the group. "Not between me and Hawkeye but between all of us. I was no longer "one of the crowd" and for good reason. I just thought that if I wanted people to trust me again, and I wanted to remain on speaking terms with some of you," she looked towards BJ who was making his way towards her and she smiled. "Then it was best that we kept our marriage a secret.

"Oh, Margaret," he said softly as he pulled her into a hug. "I can't believe you thought we would hate you for something like that.

Margaret sniffed and hugged him back. "Stop being so sentimental," she ordered with a smile on his face.

BJ pulled back, holding her at arms length. "A baby?" he asked. Margaret nodded exuberantly and BJ hugged her again. The silence in the room had worn off and she was now receiving shouts of congratulations.

Margaret still hadn't worked up enough courage to look at Hawkeye. Colonel Potter hugged her and she managed to settle her gaze on the spot where he was sitting. He was gone. Margaret felt her heart crash into her stomach and she struggled to keep her emotions at bay while everyone laughed with her and hugged her.

"That's my wife, Honnicutt." Hawkeye laughing voice came from behind her. "Let go of her and go get your own."

BJ laughed, released Margaret and patted his friend's shoulder as Hawkeye scooped Margaret into his arms. "A baby?" he whispered.

She nodded hesitantly. "I'm so sorry, Hawk. I know I should have said something but it's just that you—"

Her words were cut off as Hawkeye bent forward and dipped her into a long kiss. More cheers erupted from the crowd and when he let her up, he had a few tears swimming in his eyes.

"You're happy?" Margaret asked incredulously, not expecting to see the smile on his face. Hawkeye nodded and kissed her forehead again.

"I'm happy."

"Well what about a wedding?" BJ cried as he stood up on a table.

"We're already married." Margaret protested.

"So what?"

"We'll make it a double wedding!" Klinger offered in excitement.

Margaret shook her head firmly. "No. This is the most important day of her life. I would never do that to Soon-Le."

"Well what about tonight?" Kellye suggested, becoming increasingly excited at the prospect of another wedding.

"But I don't want to put—" Margaret began to argue.

BJ put a hand on her shoulder. "If you think you're going to cheat me out of a wedding for the third time you're crazy." He told her with a little wink.

"It's settled." Colonel Potter stated, putting a warm hand on Margaret's shoulder. "We'll meet back here in a half hour.

"I'd hurry if I were you, Margaret." BJ urged as he grabbed Hawkeye's arm and led him away. Margaret stood in place dumbly. She had no idea what to do for the next half hour.

Leah Thompson came up behind her and grabbed her arm. "What are you waiting for?" she asked. "We only have a half hour!"

* * *

"How could you not have said anything?" BJ asked, an almost angry expression on his face. "This is the second time you've done this to me!"

"Margaret asked me not to say anything." Hawkeye bent down in front of his foot locker and opened the lid, rummaging through the wooden box for his tuxedo.

"Oh, and you always do exactly what Margaret wants?"

"Touché."

Hawkeye found the tuxedo and stood up, walking over to his best friend. "She knew she screwed up when she left me for Donald. She knew that irritated just about everyone. And she knew that if we suddenly announced that we were married only two hours after she divorced that bastard that no one would give her even the slightest chance to admit she was sorry."

"I would have—"

"Oh really?" Hawkeye interrupted his friend with a smile.

BJ sighed, knowing that seven months ago he probably wouldn't have forgiven the woman. "Fine, fine. At least she let me in on this wedding."

Hawkeye grinned and grabbed a razor off Charles' desk. "Do me a favor and kill the caterpillar."

* * *

All the nurses escorted Margaret into her tent. "How do you want your hair done?" Sarah asked, pushing Margaret into a chair and picking up her brush. "It's so short it's going to be hard to do much.

"It's plenty long enough," Margaret protested. "Besides, it's fine the way it is." She argued.

"Oh come on, Margaret." Kara Able spoke up. "How many times do you have a wedding?"

Margaret looked at her, waiting for the girl to catch on. Kara laughed and blushed slightly. "Opps, sorry."

Margaret laughed suddenly, feeling incredibly grateful for what everyone was doing. "I love you all," she said suddenly. "Thank you so much for everything you've ever done for me."

"Can I come in?" Klinger called from outside the door. Kellye opened the door revealing Klinger juggling a large dress box.

Margaret flushed suddenly, praying it wasn't the wedding dress. "Um—Klinger, I'm not so sure…" she trailed off. She just couldn't bring herself to wear the dress she had been wearing when she married Donald.

"Don't worry, Major," he laughed, realizing what she was thinking. "I thought you might like to wear something a bit different."

He pulled the cover off the box and all the women squealed. "It's all yours, Major. A wedding present."

Margaret pulled the dress out of the box, gasping in delight. It was floor length, evening gown made of a dark-green emerald silk. The sleeves draped across the shoulders elegantly, and there a slit going up the side of the dress that Margaret was sure Hawkeye would heartily approve of.

"Oh Klinger it's beautiful," she breathed. Klinger stepped forward and hugged the major.

"Good luck, Margaret." He said, using her first name softly. Margaret kissed his cheek and he laughed. "You better hurry into that dress," he cautioned. "The groom is ready and waiting.

* * *

Margaret grasped Colonel Potter's arm tightly. "I'm going to miss you," she whispered. He nodded, not trusting his voice.

"I hope you two are incredibly happy together." He mumbled gruffly.

Father Mulcahy began to play on the piano keys tentatively and Margaret cringed playfully at the off-key noise. She walked into the mess tent and smiled as she saw Hawkeye dressed in his tuxedo, BJ standing beside him dressed in full uniform. Hawkeye's mouth dropped open as he saw the dress she was wearing and he teasingly licked his lips.

"I do hope that boy can wait through the ceremony for a kiss," Potter whispered in her ear and Margaret nodded.

Mulcahy cleared his throat and began the ceremony. "We are gathered here today—er tonight to witness the union of Margaret Houlihan—er, Pierce and Benjamin Pierce."

Hawkeye reached out to hold Margaret's hand.

"Who gives away this woman?"

"I do," Potter's gruff melancholy voice brought tears to Margaret's eyes and she smiled sweetly at him.

"Do you have the rings?" Mulcahy asked. Margaret chuckled and shook her head to the priest but Charles walked forward from the back of the tent. He walked towards Margaret and handed her a simple band of white gold, his eyes bearing a melancholy happiness for her.

"Take it," he urged, pressing his hand against her bare arm. "As a wedding present."

Margaret smiled her thanks genuinely.

"The bride's ring?" Mulcahy prompted as Charles melted back into the crowd.

Margaret looked at Hawkeye who chuckled and pointed to her ring finger. The crowd laughed and Margaret slid the ring off and handed it to him.

"Do you Margaret Houlihan take this man to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer 'till death do you part?"

Margaret nodded emphatically. "I do."

The padre turned to Hawkeye who was grinning like a cat. "Do you Benjamin Pierce take Margaret Houlihan to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, 'till death do you part?"

He looked straight into Margaret's eyes, wanting to skip the rest of the vows and pick her up and spin her around the room, but instead he forced himself to speak.

"I do."

The crowed let out a collective, happy sigh. "The rings please."

Margaret looked up at Hawkeye, a playful look in her eyes, and slipped the band onto his left hand. "With this ring, I thee wed," she whispered. Hawkeye slipped the ring onto her finger and repeated the phrase.

"Well," Father Mulcahy smiled mischievously. "Hawkeye, you may now kiss the bride."

Hawkeye unexpectedly picked Margaret up and planted a firm kiss on her mouth. She laughed and kicked her legs in the air.

"Let me go!" she shrieked after he let he rup for air.

Hawkeye smiled and put a soft kiss on her lips. "No, baby." He mumbled. "I'm never letting you go."


End file.
